In my mind,
(now that it suits me)
I think that poets must be like
People buying stuff at a grocery store.

Some poets prefer to take
Their own sugar-sweet time.
They hum and hawk over
Which can of verbs or
Fresh nouns to choose from,
Clutching their sharpened purses and
Staring anxiously at their
Empty white carts.
And when they think they have
It all,
They will (most likely) remember
About that sale on frozen adjectives.

But some are
“Starved”
Wildly throwing whatever looks
Sufficiently delicious, satisfying and
Hopefully nutritious
Into their groaning cart.
They often have to pause a moment,
Checking the facts only,
To exclaim and
Go get something better to reverse
Their deficiencies.

Some of these types get so
Fantastically excited that,
They check their purses midway through and,
Oh woe, they need some more dough.

But whichever type you
Happen to be,
Pick-Nicky or ravenous,
You simply cannot deny the goodness of
A warm helping of alphabet soup.