the sweet potato
the sweet potato -cut into uneven jagged pieces
with a steak knife,
trickled o'er with
olive oil
and fried to a crisp
(and there's no brown sugar)
mechanical life
at a call center -
rehearsed responses
and nothing organic
(everything is grown
in a laboratory -
including our thoughts
and emotions)
guy on the phone
said "go to hell"
and i laughed -
i laughed at the madness
of us all
as we slowly die
i watched the sweet potato
fry to a crisp
and i laughed
at the madness of the world
i slice potato eyes
and gnaw on sour sockets
5/1/12
Poetry by Thomas Perdue
Read 512 times
Written on 2012-10-03 at 23:08
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