grease trap

don't twist your guts at me.
i am only the knife sharpener.
i've never even eaten
a fried twinkie. do you know
on other planets
they don't worry
about calories & fat?
they just eat until they are
complete. once i sat outside
a mcdonalds & counted swans
as they swum down the interstate.
everything in the united states
happens on the side
of a road. we see a train & i remember
taking the train to work in the city.
my eyes often fell out 
& instead of putting them back in
i would eat a protein bar
that tasted vaguely of birthday cake.
the grind is sad & so is the grease.
i didn't mean to stop talking
to everyone it just was easier that way
& then i was free to set any fire
i had been waiting to. i do not enjoy
any fried food except when 
it is in my mouth. there i can 
remember the fryers at the back
of the malt shop. a bubbling grease stain.
how the grease became a god
in the throat of the contraption.
cleaning the gunk & livers
from its teeth. this is what it takes
to spit out a golden necklace. this is
what it takes to choke on
a planet. i am terrible at chewing.
instead, i swallow as much as i can.
my hunger is hapless & often rude.
don't mind me. i am not 
trying to make the best of anything.
i'm trying to unclog the machine
& see it flow with water. 
i'm trying to call home
& have the home be a different home 
entirely. one without mornings.
one with a toaster perpetually dinging
to say, "we are ready for you."