Poem About Itself.
This poem was written on a piece of paper.
So there’s already something pretty special about this poem and it just started.
This poem has a purpose.
This poem can be used as a coaster.
Or to buff spectacles.
Or to wipe the whip cream off a mustache.
This poem can be used for a magic trick.
(if you know a magic trick.)
The edge of this poem can be used to get that little piece of food out from between your teeth that’s been bothering you.
Or to crumb a table.
Or to make tiny yet irritating cuts.
This poem can be crumpled into a ball and used to impress a girl with your aim as you toss it into the recycling bin.
Or used as fodder for origami.
Or for the kindling of a very small fire.
The ashes of this poem can be collected and blown into the face of an assailant, momentarily blinding him.
You can tell this poem, like all poems, wants to be a hero.
Paris, Spring, 2011