bad poetry two: versus the snow monster of tibet

i have made a decision.
it is rather like a pickle.
crisp, fresh, brined with brilliance.
and delicious in my mouth.
here is to decisions and pickles,
the stuffs of the good life.

every time i make a decision that means something--
something that will change me, for the best,
i feel like a phoenix, bursting forth from ashes, old,
into a chirping naked chick, new,
and like this metaphor, my decision may be cliche
but it means something to me.

i love you jennith.
i do, i do.
this poem is narcisstic
and so are you.