The lunch ladies say that
I suffer from cybophobia.
'What's that? ' I ask.
'Why don't you look it up! '

But after school, I was invited
To go to my friend's place to
Play video games with him.
He offered me some chips-I don't like them.

Soon I left for home,
Dinner was ready.
'We're having roast, ' Mom says.
But I just said, 'No, thanks. I'm not hungry, ' and walked away.

I looked up the word cybophobia.
It said, 'Fear of food'.
Yes, I guess I am afraid of
Food because I'm as skinny as a toothpick.

by Alan DeCara

Comments (1)

(By The Seaside: The Evening Star by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.) **Here, the poet seems to depict a great loss.