Carol Everett Adams
YUMMY IS THE NEW DELICIOUS
for Erik Campbell
Dear rock star. After we hung up, I fist-hammered my plastic chair, stared
at a tree branch sketch, considered my action items. You gave me
several and I reject them. But what I can do for you is pivot.
I can pivot like a goddamn SME since I’m nimble. Circle back, Erik,
ping me. Unless you don’t have fire in your belly for the headwinds
coming at my backyard neighbor and his maskless parties. He needs coaching.
He’s about to get some feedback. I take up the mantle and raise my
little Home Depot ax. I really feel into it as I artfully chop him
into artisan pieces and hand-tear his leaves. Do you want to try this?
When you do it yourself, it’s scratch-made. Don’t worry
your pretty little head, kiddo; now calm down. I’ll touch base,
drizzle oil on his fresh-cracked low-hanging fruit. I’ll hold space
for this customer journey, stash our rage-words outside the box
until you’re ready to see me again, until this resonates with you.
Carol Everett Adams writes poems about Disney theme parks, UFO’s, organized religion, and other topics. Her poems have been published in California Quarterly, Crack the Spine, Euphony, FRiGG, Hawaii Pacific Review, The New York Quarterly, The Virginia Normal, and others.