I make no claim to greatness for this poem, I'm simply putting it here because that's the way the poem wanted it. I'm not the poem, though some of me is in the poem. I'm simply the one who hits the keys and claims the copyright.
So here's the poem, perhaps insufficiently edited, perhaps perfect, but most probably somewhere in between the two.
Kitchen as metaphor
In my kitchen are signs aplenty
I am lazy/slothful, coffee-drinking
I eat both junk and healthy stuff
Neither insects nor dirt frighten me
I recycle, reuse and waste
I don’t mindlessly scrub, rub, dub dub dub
Your kitchen may be
You are not me.