The joy of watching cooking
shows while eating a simple meal.
Simple, ha, ha. Elaborate foodways.
You admire how deftly someone
rolls out a flattened sun, though
you’d rather eat the moon, like
any other self-proclaimed poet.
It is 12:18, and you pour a ramekin of
blueberries to justify a few more minutes
with the screen. When lunch ends,
it’ll be the wad of your brain you work on
unloosing from the upholstery
of your thoughts where it has become
so stuck on one thing.