ode to the corn chip that fell on my floor

the view down here is pretty toasty

but I can kind of see your dilemma

one purpose in life, and that was lost as soon as five seconds passed.

you had to know: no dips for you

no salsa, French onion—

no chili/cheese pie dreams anymore

nothing.

are you straining to find new direction?

a broom and a dust pan are in your future, although

I could just pick you up and toss you in the toilet and flush you away

like so many goldfish who failed their purpose, too.

was this a suicide?

a broken attempt at escaping your destiny, perhaps.

wanting to break out of your predetermined future…

you missed my mouth completely

not unlike my first love

(you’d have liked her:  she was a Pringles fan)

so life’s gone stale for you and me both

maybe that’s why I find it hard to put you in your place.

cheer up—you could’ve been left in the bottom of the bag

crumpled and tossed and left to suffocate

with scattered crumbs of your friends and family…

I’ve been there; that’s no way to go