The Lemon Laughed

I cut a lemon in half, and from its heart

Came a spray of words, vulgar, stinging.

The vile fruit stained pages full of poetry,

It outstripped me,

It published obsessively.

It left itself everyplace, like some sort of acidic gospel.



I said, well,

That's just fine.

I picked it up,

Used it for an eye,

And saw a crazy dandelion world through the burning.

I tell you,

I wept.



The lemon mocked me.

Each half claimed to be more than I was, whole;

It insulted me,

Because that's how it rolls.



I said, listen,

I don't have to take this from some bald, jaundiced little turd who can't even stand up.

How dare you?

Who do you think you are?



At this, the lemon laughed.

"Rage on," it said.

"You, with the knife in your hand."

__________

The Black Ops Bread Truck

In the dawn comes the black ops bread truck--

I think you know the one I mean;

Switching out donuts in the misty dawn--

Swapping out custard for creme.



Darling, darling,

I've put a sugar-dusted mini to my eye

But, through the donut, you don't seem any sweeter,

So baby, this is goodbye.



The black ops bread truck people

Perform missions more twisted than a cruller;

But, lambchop, our love has grown stale,

And couldn't really get any duller.



Black ops bakery,

Swoop in, carry me off, like a loaf beneath your arm--

And then.....slap me around until I admit

This poem really sucks. Darn.



I guess I am really just a lightweight--

Like a smuggled-in bag of Happy Chips

Still, dear heart, you've been deposed

And all that other crappy shit...



Our crumby love has ended,

Our inventory is down to the bone--

Now I'm leaving with the black ops bread truck

But I leave you

this stupid

poem.

_____

My skills have clearly eroded.