s.n.o.e.m. (snack poem)

yeah

sure

as Gertrude Stein said,

in the morning there is meaning,

in the evening there is feeling,

but in the afternoon there is Flamin Hot Cheetos

and that is what makes all the difference

there is an emptiness

you know the one

that emptiness which sweeps across our foreheads and gets us in our guts

and follows from room to room

an emptiness which might only be forgotten

at the bottom of a Pringles can

or in a box of extra toasty Cheezits

you know the ones

and I feel like I might die if I don’t get home soon,

if I don’t get back to my snacks,

to my microwave popcorn,

my random, half stale bag of tostitos scoops,

my friendly smiling unaware haribo gummy bears

and I will withstand one more day of cold,

one more long walk to nowhere,

one more journey into what can only hurt me,

because I know that when I get home I will be greeted

by Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups

these days it’s always 4 in the afternoon

these days i’m always caught knee deep in the middle of

nothing

and it isn’t winter but it isn’t spring

and it isn’t dark but it isn’t light

and I am beginning to think

that there is something in me that is truly evil

and then I eat some pita chips

and there is goodness in me again maybe

the water tower.