Self-Argument Poem by Troy Cochran

My soul and I are disagreed.
He wants food for thought,
And I want scrambled eggs.

'Look here, ' I say. 'Seein' how it's me
What's doing the cooking,
You bring me something solid for a change
And I'll make you a scrambled thought.'

We settle for a piece of toast,
Dealing one to each;
And share a cup of coffee, hot.

Now I'm thinkin' I want
Boysenberry jam,
And he's got something in his teeth
And won't eat.