Potato

This potato today I sat down to eat Was not the spud I expected to meet It seemed to be a tad bit dry A red one it seemed it each of its eye I couldn't quite tell how it was cooked With a rumbling tum, closer I looked Lightly seasoned with oregano Was it mashed? Then I realized, no I thought briefly, potato salad? That theory didn't seem too valid Between the beans and it, there was a void As if my potato was being paranoid Then I thought maybe it was roasted Looking closer I see it was toasted It snickered as my belly ached Turns out this potato was very baked