melted peanut butter in between two salty crackers,
the heat of the cellophane crinkling in the heat of the car,
as i eat my post-work afternoon snack
while driving home, wondering what i will have for dinner,
knowing it’s probably better than the melting peanut butter
stuck to the roof of my mouth
i learned from the portrait of dorian gray that it’s best
not to let a mediocre artists paint a portrait of you,
nor let mediocre personalities (including yourself) adore you,
only to be wrapped up in your own ego
to the point where youth and time mean nothing,
when the superficialities strip away,
leaving bare
what was never there
though also to that point,
i wonder what the story of dorian gray would have been like
if rather than a beautiful painting of his youth he kept hidden away,
it was a cartoon caricature?
Fred Aiken Writing 