Bon Appétit!

Never enough time to write- 
all these ideas boiling and bubbling around in my head. 
Then when I finally get some time to write-
I want the fiction and essays to rise to the top of the brew 
but only poetry keeps spurting out and dripping down the side. 


So many things simmering on the back burner.
I hope I don't leave them there to scorch and stick and stain 
the cast iron, copper and Teflon 
or caramelize into gobs of gooey mess, 
permanently corroding the finish of the stove top 
and stinking up the kitchen. 


Sheez, so much poetry-
 I may have to gather it all into Tupperware containers 
and freeze it for later. 


Whoop! There goes the buzzer again! 
Out of time and nothing seems to be done yet. 


That memoir is too runny 
and the character-sketch hasn't risen yet. 
Not enough salt in the humor piece, 
not enough sugar in the love-letter 
(too much cayenne, again, damn, damn, damn.) 


This narrative is bland 
and the chapter for that novel is half-baked.

Okay poetry, 
I have to serve SOMETHING. 
I thought you were supposed to be for dessert. 
Guess you'll be my meal again tonight.


What the Hell, life is short
eat dessert first.