Clogged sink

I wrote a poem today
and tore it up.
It was so bad,
I stuffed the remains
in my blender
and titled it PULP.
Then, I wrote this one
and tried reviving
the first one—
but it was too late.
I poured it down my sink.
I probably shouldn’t
have done that.
Anyway, I spent the rest
of the evening
gargling salad dressing
because the first poem
was about
gargling salad dressing.
I thought I just needed
to experience
more of it
before trying to write.
But after spitting out
so much oil and vinegar,
along with PULP—
my sink got clogged.
I felt very much
at one
with the wire hanger,
as I tried freeing up
all that mess down there;
But everything was
stopped up.
That’s when I gave up
and consulted an expert.
I sat down and read
The New Yorker
while waiting for help
to arrive. It never did.
So I called a plumber.
He showed up,
fixed my sink,
and gave me plenty
to write about.

written on 01/07/2011 by: Matt Kane