So this next poem has not found a home.
And I don't feel a kind of way about it.
[CHUCKLES] But there's been so many articles about people
feeling kind of singular in the world.
And I was grappling with feeling singular,
but also, I was thinking about apples and the Garden of Eden.
And so this is my contribution to singularity
and that feeling in the world.
"Lentils."
Seems like hours, me in this packaged paradise
Supermarket lights, sunbeam round
glaring onto plastic products
Ship shined and clean
Such emptiness, such desolation
The lone cashier with hollow eyes
The floor a bright mirror of nothing
No noise, not even music
This morning, I read a story about a woman in love
with a robot
She sets two plates on a table at mealtime,
Believes they get on rather well
Maybe the robot has skills in bed,
or maybe, there's wealth to be had
Whatever the case, can I ask if we still
have need for one another?
Or maybe what I'm asking is, have we
lost the need for ourselves?
Has the body become both shore and sea?
Is the sea in a perpetual retreat?
I'm searching for a bag of seeds for soup
Ain't nobody around to help me find it
But a ray of sun from the ceiling
shines on manmade apples stacked in a perfect triangle
I'm alone, let me eat one and end this story quick
[APPLAUSE]