the best poem I ever wrote
was written on a napkin
I wiped my mouth with
and thought I threw it away
found it again one day
with spaghetti sauce smears
and a hint of garlic
bald up in a wad
the one thing I scribed
and tossed to the side
was the golden apple
of everyone’s eyes
I never saw what was seen
it was something to me so plain
no thought no rhyme
It wasn’t a cage bird sing
no fire next time
just a stupid poem of mine
parmesan cheese