Sometimes Ignorance Is Bliss

He'd grown up consuming

what his mother made for him

Never assuming

where on earth it came from

His favorite meal

and he would ask for it often

When he read the label

homegrown, fresh in Boston

He decided one day, he would visit the city

packed a few things and caught a bus heading east

He'd written a letter, he thought was quite witty

googled the address and acquired the name of the street

"Uncommonly good" was the name he discovered

the list of ingredients were a series of names

He giggled aloud, his hands his mouth covered

and a barcode concealing what else it contained

Curiosity, the driver, he traveled along

it would be quite the journey, covering several states

He kept himself busy, composing lyrics to a song

see, this was his passion, songs about living life

he wrote of the mundane some life experiences bring

some in great detail and loaded to excite

and some he would strum to on his air guitar

passing through stations

different names different faces

his main observation

was that, people are strange

some to their own

and others too chatty

tall, short, skin and bones

and some major food fatties

their whole worlds on display

as they each made their journey

who was he to say

yet he judged them the same

without any words he silently wondered

from where did they come and where do they go

he counted them all, he had just reached 300

when the driver announced, this is the end of the road

he scurried off of the bus and collected his suitcase

scanned the address he had written on his hand

checked that he had everything, just in case

he entered the station with the ticket he scanned

he then called a cab to take him to his hotel

a dirty little dive near the address he'd procured

climbed right into bed ignoring that he smelled

pulled the blankets up till it covered his head

the next morning he showered

and grabbed some toast in the lobby

uncommonly good opened in a few hours

so he decided to pour some coffee too

he arrived, unannounced and asked if he could see the owner

reception asked him, "what is your visit about"

he smiled at her and leaned over the counter

and said, "I don't know, I guess we'll have to find out"

his demeanor so strange that she said

"please excuse me, I need to see whether or not he is in"

when she returned she carried a hammer

raised it in the air and banged it hard on his head

she collected his id and pulled him in through the doorway

typed in his name to an unknown email

she smiled as she wheeled him calling, "sir, please come this way"

she signed him in under the name, Ishmael

an outcast and stranger, she gave him a new name

circled the address he'd written in ink, on his skin

hollered down the corridor, "we've got another one, Sam"

"when you're all done, I'll need a sample of him"

he woke when he felt the steel blade on his palm

took one quick look around and hollered, "what's going on?"

my only desire was to see where my favorite food came from

Sam smiled and answered, "hold on, you'll see when I'm done"

you see we've created a taste people long for

a craving that even the most picky approve

had you bothered to scan in the provided bar code

because not everyone can stomach the truth

Joe finally discovered the secret he'd been seeking

it was much too late for him to change what's been done

just proving the fact sometimes seeing is believing

another instance of fact, he never should have come

a package arrived a week later to his mom

in a handwritten letter, "please accept this gift, ma'am"

we learned that your son was a fan of our dip sum

so to honor his great taste, (it was the back of his hand)

the mother knew instantly this was her warning

be quiet or meet the demise of her boy

she stared out the window, silently mourning

and then placed her order for a box of bok choy

the moral of this story, I don't know that there is one

except think again before you decide to appear

in the office of a box store without a companion

like they told his mother, he shouldn't have come here