Runcible Spoon

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You tossed a cold cathead biscuit

at my ass as I ran in a huff from your kitchen,

the thick, brown syrup sticking to the bottom

of my jeans in a big brown glob.

The nerve of me to ask if your heart

had been doused in vinegar before the gnomes

on the front lawn tried to eat it.

(I’ve always wanted to kick the shit

out of the gnome with the cape. He

is just asking for trouble.)


You’ve trained your dog to bite anyone

who runs across your yard so I ended up kicking

the shit out of him as well. Your gnome,

your schnauzer, and your three-eyed,

knife-bearing, snaggle-toothed mother.

What lessons have you not learned

this day? You cannot ignite propane

while men are straddling the tank.

Flesh is flammable. Cathead biscuits

may be cooked to perfection on the crust

but can be raw in the middle.