POEM

The Perfect Mind and the Imperfect Body
by Austin Wilde

The perfect mind has no need for the Cello.
Its processes utterly functional,
Overarched in yellow.
Its needs always minimal,
One plus two,
The information it assimilates,
Bound together with Pritt Stick.
Thinking in a straight line,
Needs must and they do.
Why waste your time on the many,
Think of few, few, few.
From 850 BC,
To last orders with Moe,
What can’t be gleaned on a bar stool,
Nobody should know.
There is talk of an odyssey,
There is action with beer.
Drink a couple more now.
All becomes clear.
Fried and doughy,
Sugary and sweet,
He can’t see past belly,
Unrecognized are his feet.
To some they're called Churros,
To others heart attack,
If you took one from Homer,
He fucking wants it back.