There is, for some reason,
Something especially grim
About the nature of plastic cutlery,
Pocket books of poetry,
Portugal on a Tuesday,
And the wind chimes on the porch
When you’ve distinctly called
For their resignation.

It’s out of sorts to believe
You can solve these problems
With only a broiled potato.
The truth of it is
Lots of people are mean,
Including those with digital watches.
It’s how the world works,
I’m afraid.

The reader brings his or her own experience to the poem and creates meaning. Here is my experience.

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