2009 -- 2.1 (Fall) Poetry

The Pillsbury Doughboy Can’t Giggle

After the shot the doughboy ripped off his baker’s hat

and ran to the dressing room holding his stomach

hoping his intestines would stay in place

before he got to the dressing room door he heard

max, the photographer


It’s Sam, not doughboy

After slamming and locking the dressing room door

Sam felt his stomach again

one more time one more time i’m gonna lose it

i can’t fake it anymore

Sam slipped out of his white costume

looking at his naked scarred body

five hernias and counting

Three hours after Sam entered his dressing room

the photographer knocked on the door

doughboy, you gotta get outta there

doughboy     OPEN UP

Sam turned on the toaster oven, setting it to 450 degrees

won’t take long, maybe I should grease the pan

he looked in the mirror and poked his own stomach

no laugh, the pain was too much

another hernia

Another knock on Sam’s dressing room door

Doughboy, it’s Aunt Jemima   and i’m PISSED


is your stomach hurting again

The doughboy opened his door and let Aunt Jemima in

i can’t do it any more, the giggling

it hurts too much   and i’m not getting paid enough

besides   i hate cooking

one more person pokes me I’ll bite

You think you have it bad, Aunt Jemima pointed to her head

look at this damn perm

you think I wanted a perm   Hell no  i did it for

the people   and the money

i miss my handkerchief   this perms just not me

Well you don’t have tons of people jabbing you in the gut

i like the perm, makes you look modern

leave me alone I have to bake myself

Doughboy, you tried this last year, we don’t have a choice

we have to survive   you know how many would miss us

if we were gone

besides  i kinda like being famous

DOUGHBOY   Aunt Jemima attempted to open the toaster oven

it was locked from the inside

all she could do was watch

damn   he looks good enough to eat