This here poem is the product of deep contemplation in the jelly section at Walmart. Now, as a dedicated prankster, I understand the value of odd things in unlikely places, but, even I never expected to find deep contemplation in a Walmart, on the subject of puréed fruit products or otherwise! But there I was, mulling over the wonders of preservation, tripping on the the staggering selection of mushed-up, sweetened fruit, and wondering, "what in the heck is fruit "spread"? Like, how is it any different from jelly? Or jam? And who the heck decided that fruit "spread" was different from jelly or jam? Who makes these decisions? And why?" This poem is the only answer that made any sense to me. It leaves a lot unanswered, but, hey, if we knew everything, the world would be a boring place, right?

note: no, I was not on drugs. Just a few chocolate covered coffee beans. And I probably would have ended up wondering these things without their help.