Schrödinger’s Restaurant

I’m spinning plates at
Schrödinger’s Restaurant
Where food arrives and then doesn’t.
Cats black run out the front gate
Arriving white at the back door.

Finish eating peacefully, with love your wife and not wife.
Her note scratched on the back of a non payable check:
Make sure to do the mopping up of everything on your plate,
With white toast, or with nothing but your tongue.
No ones looking at you anymore
Anachronisms come built with a kill switch.
Schrödinger typed the menu in mimeograph blue
And we lift our morning quiz up to light our eyes
With the power of copies, copies, copies,… Read More Schrödinger’s Restaurant