Daffodil Sandwiches - Poem by Shaye Anderson
I’ve started to realize that you are more like the moon
than you admit to.
That there is this one part of your face
I never am positioned well enough
And I think this means I don’t trust you,
or that you don’t trust me,
or maybe a combination of both.
I can’t eat mayonnaise without mustard
or mustard without mayonnaise.
I say I like the daffodil color it contributes
to my sandwich.
You say you are a vegetarian and that means you don’t eat meat
and I ask if that means you don’t eat sandwiches
other than grilled cheese?
Not that there is anything wrong with grilled cheese,
but it has an unequal mustard to mayonnaise ratio
in its color scheme.
You say that colors are irrelevant to food groups,
and I say you are wrong.
That I read an article once in a health magazine,
not that I know why I ever read a health magazine,
that said something about a variety of colors being good for the diet.
Not that I have a variety of colors in my diet.
You say that cream is the same thing as white
and I say you are partially right
but also mostly wrong,
and that you don’t need two x-chromosomes to not be colorblind.
Then you ask me if I am a feminist
and I say no at first.
Then I say I don’t know
because I don’t really know what that means.
Like the time I was asked if I was a Christian and I said I was
but that I don’t believe in god
and the man who asked gave me a really strange look
like I had spit in his food because I knew he wouldn’t tip well.
But I wasn’t a waiter and we were just two people
inhabiting the same square foot of the universe.
Then he left.
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