Quick Poem

You could write a ten minute poem. In nine minutes from now, the temperature turns on. I could have eaten the pots and pans in the sink. But they tasted like old leftover stuff. You could jump in. If there are things in there. Like creative books and patience. Maybe give the stove some time. Two minutes are all you need to write a poem. A small poem, the size of a mothball. It tasted strange. Creative stuff sitting out. Gets forgotten about. But I still wrote a poem. Which I forgot in the fridge overnight. Two minutes are all you need. So wash your hands. And finish making lunch.