Sadness Dujour Poem by John W. McEwers

She's one heart
one head
two legs
ready

She's jump start
turn the key
pump the gas
ready

But there's a money slot
on this one
there's a dinner
requirement
that can only be achieved
by the fanciest of places
and the smallest of foods

and I need to use my napkin
in my lap, like a prude
who really is that afraid
of their own little food?
Like it somehow hurts
to have a mustard stain
from a tasty hot dog
or the hint of ketchup
spotted along a collar?

And oh, those legs, indeed
skinny like a deer
and oh so clip clop
heels

She looks like sex, order up
for the lucky, dopey, fella
who actually wants to be scared of
his meals.

Not me, baby, baby
I'm a eater of things
I'd drip you on my shirt
if I pleased

but I'm not that strong
to say that to folks
so I sit and nibble
vegan quiche.

I hate the new woman
she makes me so sad
I just wanna watch American Gladiators
but even that's gone now!