Two Poems
by Adam Voith
Sad-Ass Soup
My new wife has noticed
I only eat one soup
Just one soup? In the whole world?
And it’s fucking Lipton Noodle?
I blow on a spoonful and take a sip
nodding yep
It’s not true, of course I eat more
but we love the funny mismatched story
She’s got friends
in the industry
Restaurants with reservations
and the best mid-brow places
Knows the names
and tastes of chefs in other cities
Ex-fiancé a sommelier
(I had to look it up to write this)
I’ve got a list of meals I’ve ruined
with her, or friends, clients, other women
Anyway, she knows
I’ll do Campbell’s Bean with Bacon, too
Pre-cooked, it’s like canned dog food
in the ‘80s
It microwaves up enough
for two giant servings
But we don’t share
so I leave a lot leftover in the sink
Sitting cold, it makes an awful smell
by the time she comes to refill her water
Sick, babe!
You gotta wash it down and run the disposal, okay?
My long-time best friend
gave me the same sort of shit in college
Look at your sad-ass soup
and little buttered crackers
Bitch Filet
“You had a tiny little bitch filet serving
and you didn’t touch it.”
Me, a picky eater in the background of an Instagram video I posted from Ruth’s Chris in Boise which made my friends & family love her that much more, and earned me a new nickname: Did you say bitch filet?
“Bitch filet. Serving.
You barely touched it.”
I ate the whole thing.
“That’s a lie.
Babe. That’s a lie.”
She’s very funny. She’s got on a nice sweater. We’re a little dressed up, traveling, had a few cocktails, she looks and feels pretty.
“And then you
dissected the potato
and mushed it around a bit
and ate maybe a third of it.”
I ate the whole goddamn potato.
The table has been cleared. She can’t prove anything.
“And then you ate one piece of bread.”
She made cute pinchy fingers to show that the piece of bread was really small.
Adam Voith is a writer and music agent in Nashville. Find him online @adam_voith and adamvoith.com.
