by Vicki

Here is a real poem….

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“Peanut butter is the paté of childhood.”
Florence Fabricant, Food writer

Here is a real poem.
I am caught in it like
a fly in a spiderweb.

I am caught in a
cheap haircut
I chose above a
pricier one which would
not buy me another
moment of joy.

I ate a sandwich on
Pepperidge Farm
skinny wheat bread.
Peter Pan Smooth
and peach marmalade
and it was made.

Here is a real person
with no hope of
being born again
into a brighter and
crisper world.
Just the one I have
always been in.
Now I must take
more notice.

Vicki Woodyard

One Comment

  1. knows of that of which you speak…. and am letting the lid have its own way in winding….. on the counter now with the browned peanut pate undefended. ……. THIS PHOTO of a jar was taken by stealth in my kitchen, and the spies go around finding it wherever it chooses to go….. no matter what the buzzer on the microwave says…….

    thanks, Vicki

    Reply

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