Expressionism in the most suburban setting.
You scratch and sniff and wake me up,
with your cucumber poking into my back.
Why do you suppose I want to eat
a cucumber first thing in the morning?
I eat cucumbers but only in salads.
And remember, I pick off the carrot shavings.
The carrot shavings, I save for…
This is our poem. It’s going into Eyelashes.