Ordinary Toothpick
The ordinary toothpick fills the needs of mankind
With a pick, pick, here, and a pick, pick there.
A little piece of stick with no holes, handles
Cords, plugs, tops, bottoms, insides, or batteries.
You little piece of stick, literally at the bottom of the totem pole.
Probably preserved in a bottom drawer in the dark rusted hull
Of the Titanic at the bottom of the sea; you little unwanted stick!
You little piece of stick, colorful, glistening, and perky sticking
Out of a pig-in-a-blanket on a party boat that’s floating
Off the Boston skyline, then slung; I said slung like spit
Into the cold murkiness that keeps the ship afloat, the party going
And the hors d’oeuvres handed out. Or, is the ship clunking about
On millions of discarded toothpicks?
All hail the toothpick.
You ordinary little piece of stick, or maybe,
Unordinary!?
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