Draft for a better poem

It's not that I don't want to go to a potluck

It's more that I want to be served in the same way that I want to serve you

Not tonight

But sometime later

I don't know what to bring that I wouldn't rather buy at a restaurant where I don't have to carry it

Lay it out next to everyone else's dishes

Schlep it back half eaten through the metro

And is anyone going to bring dessert? There is so much I don't know and that makes me feel awkward

"Bring whatever you want to eat" they said

But I don't think they're ready for a bag of madeleines and a pack of American Spirits

I mean if we're talking true desires that's all I'd eat

No, no, now I'm searching for a dep that has chips or something 

It's cold and I just want someone to feed me

Everyone on the street looks like someone I know but that's because everyone looks the same buried under hats and scarves

Some of these people are from here 

And probably know what to bring to a potluck

They have a pantry shelf for surprise potlucks

I have a premonition of feeling strangely judged for whatever it is I bring.

You can't go wrong with Pabst and grapes.

That's normal and good.

I am normal and good, like PBR and grapes.

And peach rings.