Wilma's Banana Bread Boutade Poem by Howard Camner

It looks like something a stegosaurus might drop
but the truth is, nobody knows what it is
Wilma calls it 'banana bread'
She makes it herself
but I've seen banana bread, and that's not banana bread
I think it's a small nuclear weapon of some kind
or maybe a yam gone wrong
There's something sinister about it
I know that much
Wilma brags about her banana bread all the time
She even stops people on the street
and drunk-dials strangers late at night
to tell them how great her banana bread is
Somebody has to stop her
Somebody has to reel her in and put her in her place
Somebody has to tell her
that when you eat her banana bread
you forget who you are
your conscience takes a leave of absence
and you become incoherent
you contort and twitch
your words come out backwards and you foam at the mouth
If you eat Wilma's banana bread you separate from yourself
The part of you that ate the banana bread
despises the part of you that didn't
and vice versa
you become shorter
your life becomes severe
It's a combination of elements that only Henry Jekyll
would understand
Your appetite for sin goes through the roof
and you face an inner turmoil like you've never known
Somebody has to tell Wilma
that her banana bread causes all that
But it won't be me
I won't say a word
because when she forces her banana bread on me,
I take it with a smile
I thank her profusely
and then I sell it
as a cure for sanity