Can you believe that a poet would write this?

Stephank Poems

. What do you do with a fried pickle sandwich when lavender leaves have messed up its hair How do you cut it in two equal pieces while no one is home and you don’t like to share Why is it sitting alone on the counter as saucers of milk perform on the stage Where is the flavor when bland is in fashion and comic books sing on the very next page Will you surrender to appetites chanting, crossing the line where the pickets are white Shoveling corn flakes when it is not snowing, flying a kernel instead of a kite Serving a side that is right down the middle, leftover vegetables mashed into paste Like a potato but not very filling, smothered in ketchup to drown out the taste Do you like tablecloths made out of vinyl, just like a record but square when they play Nothing to spin when you can’t find a needle, looking through stacks that are covered in hay Cook books too heavy to fit in your diet, checking your math while subtracting a pound Running in place when you’d rather be singing, wishing the dining room table was round Can you believe that a poet would write this, watching a hummingbird outside his door Smiling from one ear but not to the other feeling the pinch when his cheeks are too sore Maybe his mind is a swirl of affection and it is her that he is thinking of It’s a safe bet amid all this confusion the poet who wrote this has fallen in love