Poetic Referendum(s) On Life

Dish

Can’t get out of my own way some days
Bright inspiration cleaves my head
A pungent onion, quarter or dice,
Dream every purpose
No dish in mind
An oven, stove or microwave
Standby. Other ingredients
To pair as I stare
Into that time portal
A hole in physical space where I waste
So much waste, like time.
Store the chopped tear jerker
Return to the obedient fridge
Not hungry now, maybe,
Never again. Too much time
And work getting lost
In thought of what to prepare
And for who, having cultivated
A particular taste that appeases
A chef, without anyone
To huddle over, ask
Whatcha cookin’?
Just to reply
Whatcha in the mood for
And spend a pretty dime
At one of the many houses
Where we order the same thing
Off the menu, because
We know what we like,
Don’t like to cook, especially
When your uninspired, without
Two lips and a hungry mouth
Begging at your ear
Whip me up another dish,
Because you cook so good.


5.22.23