cans of soup

between deep thoughts and hyperbole
she asked me to stay
while the walls were littered
with pop art finds predominantly featuring
food stuffs and pantry items
divorced from reality and hung on display
as something other than avant-garde
to force a sort of paradigm shift —
or maybe just a new line of bullshit
to cover the simple fact
that our souls are fed on hunger
and drowning on junk food dreams
perpetually lost in a land
where nothing is as it seems.

(for andy warhol)