“Torte”

You asked for dessert.
I made you a poem.
You just looked at it
and spoke.

“This is not sweet.
This is not rich.
This poem does nothing
to scratch my syrupy itch.”

You asked for dessert
once again.
I wrote you a poem
never again.

narrative poem written on 10-22-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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