The Hermit Poet

I was out shopping earlier tonight and spotted what I thought was a rather sad piece of advertising in the frozen food section:

“Pizza for One”

I think I understand why I never see tv ads for this.

Alternative names that came to mind:

“Pizza for a Lonely Guy Who Doesn’t Have Anything Else to Do Tonight But Watch TV”
“Pizza to be Eaten By Yourself in a Dark Room While You Listen to the Smiths and Wonder Why the Cockroaches Look Happy”
“Pizza for Another Empty Life”
“Pizza to Fill Your Belly, Even If it Won’t Fill That Huge Aching Hole in Your Heart”
“Pizza for Nights When You and Neruda Both Can Write the Saddest Lines”

It also made me wonder if “Personal-Sized Pizzas” were all that personal. They actually feel quite impersonal — haphazardly thrown together without any indication of care. Of course, perhaps by “Personal Pizza” they mean that some poor struggling single person in the factory has scribbled on the inside of each package, “SWM 24 seeks some indication of outside world” or “SAF 28 loves children and classical music.”

What does this have to do with poetry and poetics? I don’t know. It just struck me as odd. Maybe this hermit life is wearing thin and I should invest in bowling shoes…