male influence poem #2

the text I just sent
about eating the spaghetti
that you were probably saving
for midnight snack

forgive me so saucy so warm etc.
can't be my poem
not because I think
notes can't be poems

but because I have used that plea before
stale sorries           O Flossie
never write a poem when you're hungry
it's like shopping for images

in the cupboard
of the American vernacular
which like mine
contains messages for the lazy and foolish

like me
like natural peanut butter
that promises
'no need to stir'

—shut the cabinet door
'I too lived—
Brooklyn, of ample hills, was mine'
and only the guys

of NY and NJ
so meta
so sweet and so cold
got my back