By Susan Swanton
When I eat fiber
Tomato paste runs wild
In the streets of Big Sur.
I’m a flower child
Eating ten million
Almonds a day
And ten trillion
Times the buffet.
I flit like twenty-five hummingbirds.
I pewp one thousand enchiladas.
It wasn’t even considered
A rest stop of Nevada.
I hear drums from the gas tank.
Stop looking at me, Uncle Frank.
Clutching at Straws 