If poems were air conditioners, my bedroom would be an icecap.
If poems were houses, I'd have a city in my fingers.
If poems were teeth, I'd be the fucking tooth fairy.
If poems were television sets, I'd be the thrift store down the road.
If poems was oil, imagine the war in the middle east!
   It'd be fought with graffiti and pencil marks,
   and our cars would run on the misery of Sylvia Plath.
If poems were eyes, this world would be blind.
   This world is blind anyway, sweetheart.
If poems were binary they'd be 1.
  Everything else, 0.
If poems were french fries, you'd be covered in cheese.