Cafeteria Pondering

I sit, I wonder,
As I hear clanking plates,
Why in caf
are there always tate-
Why must the white rabbit
always be late?
What use to catch
a catfish—which bait?
Is there a girl here, named
As I see salad bar,
Oh so far,
I think,
Why are there no not any dates?
Why is date the fruit,
Spelt samely as
going out on a date?
Perhaps fate?
Or a question that
leaves an open gate.
I do hate
these seeds in my teeth,
I think, swigging a gulp of
milk for relief.
I see an Aussie say,
“G’day mate!”
As I wait,
Making sure no not digested
any tape-
worms while ate—
Why so hard
to wake up with clean slate?
When so easy it be to tate,
No, taint—
Gambling my fate,
gobbling outdated food,
mystery meat,
and moving glop that
needs beat before eat—
If only I had a red
balloon to inflate.
I see two amigos meet.
Two homeboys great—
A swirling balloon,
swirling, swirling,
around the room,
making little baboons
at the sound of gas.
I sit, and wonder
about many random things,
How fun would life be
with no not any ?’s
My thoughts abrupt as I finish
my plate,
One last gulp,
Before I run to class,
Hoping not be late.







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