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Silly Cafe Poem
Backstroking down Sanity Avenue,
I basked in the faces
that were like bread roll appetizers passed around
in the hot-jelly café of life.
I am happy to take any of them to the restaurant
and break rolls with them
and we can eat our sorrows away.
You are the soup, I am the crouton.
You are the spoon to my fork.
I am the parmesan cheese
to your pepper-shaker.
You are the salt to my tortilla.
You are the tip,
I am the table.
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This article has 3 comments.
It's funny and wild (:
I can't tell why I love this poem...is it bad? Good? Terrible? I love it for its sheer silliness.