Stick Man Poem by Dorsey Baker

He stuck a fork in that big juicy meatball that was
staring at him from that huge plate of pasta.
Pasta was his meal of choice.
He could eat pasta seven days a week.
He was a huge man with a huge appetite.
He lived alone and he usually ate pasta
and he usually ate it alone.
His waist-line would begin to expand more and more
as he consumed more and more pasta.
As he was consuming his massive plate of pasta, he would
down two or three beers at a time.
He ate pasta to live and he lived to eat pasta.
Pasta!
Pasta!
Pasta!
He lived for pasta and pasta only!
When he felt lonely.
When he felt sad.
It was pasta that he turned to.
Sitting at the table, a big plate of pasta
before him. He stuck his fork in a big
juicy meatball. The table flipped.
Hit him in the head. Killing him dead!