got a breakfast burrito
this morning
from a fast-food joint.
it came in a soft paper bag
with soft napkins, too.
they were once a mighty tree,
older than man,
but my—
how the mighty have fallen.
he lived a good long life,
just count the rings.
decorated bags
to hide the grease
up the sides.
soiled spots,
like splotches of melanoma.
the napkins
moist and damp
even before first use.
little gleaming packets
of hot sauce and ketchup
crumpled carelessly
and piled at the bottom of the bag.
Grab my poetry book, 'we're all just wanderers in the end' Herethe burrito wrapped
in paper-lined foil—
soggy and depressing—
with enough excess tortilla
to wrap the Earth twofold
and blanket it
from the sun
and the asteroids.
no doomsday today,
the tortilla will save us!
the animals that died for it—
even without a consciousness—
would be disappointed
at what they’d become;
at their end result.
pressed, preserved,
and stamped into shapes of
unrecognizable proteins.
what animal even was it?
that’s the million-dollar question.
split up gang
and look for clues.
What Poetry Feels Likethe cheese called American—
although it’s anything but cheese.
patriotic in name alone:
a false pretense
under the guise of cheese.
it’s yellow I suppose,
and square.
must be cheese.
next will be Post-It Notes.
the hash-brown
both crisp AND soggy,
simultaneously.
an undeniable feat.
(credit where credit is due.)
all tristate forms represented:
solid, liquid, and steam.
the steam escaping
like watery phantoms
released from a deep-fried prison
of a grease filled Hell.
free at last!
free at last!
no salt, no flavor, no personality.
a desolate wasteland of blandness.
the insipidness of its existence,
an insult to the tastebuds.
violent disagreement with the stomach,
like a quarreling couple:
go stay at your mothers for a while.
I need to sort some things out.
I don’t want to.
well, you can’t stay here.
she goes, he stays.
regrets the decision.
smokes a cigarette and questions:
was it worth it?
no. it was never worth it.
but it was only 5 bucks
plus tax.
###
this is a poem from my book bearing the burden of existence, available on Amazon.
Be sure to check out my blog, A Soul Redeemed.
AD: Your Book Finally Written...