Not In My Soup!

Waiter!
There’s a red car in my soup
A red car and two black bikes
A bad track record
So bad it’s nearly terrible
There’s a strange sense of longing
And it is hard for me to swallow

Waiter, there’s a strange taste in my soup
When I tell you how much l love you
And keep sitting here
With this recurring sensation of deja vu
In my soup
I don’t like deja vu with my soup
Didn’t I tell you that last time?
Waiter, there’s a sad look on your face
When I tell you…

I mean this soup!
Can it be?
Is it otherworldly?
Waiter, waiter, waiter
Why is your heart beating
In my soup
Get out of the car
It’s not even registered
Well of course you would drive
On the left
But it is not your soup
Waiter, do you accept cash like last time
Waiter, can you take a rain check
Waiter, look out the window, look
Look over there

Waiter, please, waiter
don’t call the police
I wasn’t trying to run off
I would never!
Not down my soup!

Waiter, please, I love you so much
Let me make it up to you next time
I’ll even pay

Waiter, what are those handcuffs doing in my soup
I’m innocent, the soup was already cold
When it got here!
I’m innocent, I didn’t even drive the car
I swear, I just wanted a slight taste
of burnt rubber,only in the aftertaste
like an afterthought

A tiny screech under a lamppost
A humming under a table lamp
Waiter, please don’t do this
I’ll keep my shirt on
I’ll even take it off
Look, the bikes are still where you left them
In the bike rack
It’s all there
It’s all there in my soup, waiter

I mean, Waiter, what about a little seasoning
Some crushed autumn leaves
a little nurturing
a faint breeze
Waiter, tell the chef
The grass was supposed
To be greener

Waiter, waiter, waiter
There’s a burning sensation
Down my throat,
And I only wanted soup
Wait, waiter, are you the police
Where is the chef
Waiter, I swear
I’ll only tell them
What I told you
The soup was already cold
I would never drive on the left
You had nothing to do with it
And I’m the chef

Poem from 2018