More Than Necessary
I have a dump truck full of tater-tots
and no ketchup—
only a suburban subdivision house’s backyard pool
full of mayonnaise.
I realize this is all a bit extreme for a party of one.
I realize, now, how important planning is.
The suburban subdivision house possesses
enough garden gnomes for a Paramount movie.
Excess seems to be a pattern in this poem.
Excess. Excess. Excess. Excess. Excess.
In your mind picture each Excess applying larger font sizes
until only the top bar of the fifth Excess’s “E” fits on the page.
I am addicted to surreal excesses.
I once proposed milling a bowler to top Brussels’ skyline.
New York City’s Big Apple is the granny smith green apple
I suspended in front of the Statue of Liberty’s face.