Conversation with My Poems

Viola Lee

You are that Sade song.

God, I love that song.

You are the weird sea animal that can't find a date.

You are the glue that sticks to the hand.

You are also the peeling of that glue from the hand.

You are the Bugel chips that we used to put on each finger

and then we would make a crazy witch noise or do a crazy witch dance.

The witch dance was something you were never good at, neither was I.

You are the gross toes of a gross animal.

Why doesn't the train on the blue line ever smell like chocolate cake?

You are the woman down the street telling who ever she is talking to

to go screw yourself and that she wants you away from her children.

God, I love this neighborhood.

You are the voice of reason and the seasoned artist.

When I think of a seasoned artist, I think of a person wrapped in shake and bake.

You are wrapped in shake and bake

and because of this I will eat you.