A Pan of Lack
by Mike McGonegal
He finds himself a hungry boy,
But told to eat a certain way,
He freezes; misdirected by
Creators. Those of mind and site.
Directors of his life.
Another with another curve
Says that she doesn’t like depression.
The master where the spider lives
Enjoys some dots as interruptions.
The two of them change words.
A pan of lack results again,
As true direction always fails.
It withers; fading every hour.
We all do what we can to ruin.
But who is true enough to say, with love,
I like my brownies cooked that way?
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