I like French vanilla

better than

plain old vanilla and I

can’t figure why. . .

I suppose it isn’t imported still

maybe Notre Dame churns it,

or maybe

you can French Fry it like

that green tea treat–
 
 
or maybe it’s the custard base or maybe not

–since most chickens aren’t partial to eggs but

whatever it is,

it’s got this

je ne sais quoi

quality that surpasses

plain old vanilla

by meters. . .

kilometers even it’s

almost as bien

as the

Bean.

 
I wrote you all these letters…

to show you

characters

–mine, yours, imaginary…
 
 
 
simple signs

assigned to symbols

that somehow never crashed, I revamped

Q&A form into bones…

boring chickenscratch clear to marrow

–new-ance mine, I drew

pictographs

(in the sand)

line by line

byline in

F…uh

Gee &

Effin’ A.

I never meant to be

graphemous.