Dining In

Left over from dinner but still warm on my plate
I eyed with suspicion the food I had just ate
Something was amiss, though no source could be found
Somehow my plate was now turning itself upside down
Though now spinning backwards and my pulse slightly up
I had no conscious except nonsense, which got mostly thrown up
On the floor of my kitchen with the food and the table
Which somehow lent support to my body unable
To rise to the occasion let alone clean myself up
The food was still eyeing me, so I said to it “what?”
It said, “Why did you eat me?”
So I replied “you were good”.
It said “all things that are good are not necessarily shoulds”.
I suddenly felt sorry for this dinner half eaten
Half spewed on the floor like some abominable cretin.
As I pondered its existence and questioned its need
I felt obliged to consume it
It was only then we agreed
That food left uneaten is like a child with scissors,
Alone in the park with a mismatched pair of sneakers
Never good.


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