Ode to Making Pancakes, If You Know What I Mean

Assignment Four: Compose a poem about pancakes.

This is my own doing. Could you even imagine a professor just demanding something so random?

"For next weeks meeting you will need to write a poem about a lovely stack of pancakes. Breakfast is the most important part of the day after all. Let the delicious treat inspire you."

That is not what happened. Instead, it started with a normal first day of class ice-breaker. The only difference is that after each person introduced themselves, they were required to name an image they would like to use in a poem. All of the images everyone else came up with were pretty standard: feelings, various types of weather, basic deep poetry stuff. Of course, when all the attention comes to me--the very last student to speak--I have to come up with something more original than all that. So I say the first thing that comes to mind:

Syrup being poured on a stack of pancakes topped with butter. My exact words.

You can imagine the mixed reaction of laughter, confusion and slight annoyance that followed that gem of brillance. After my turn, the class continued as if nothing happened. As anyone might have guessed, the list of chosen images returned during the next class session. Each pre-assigned poetry workshop group was required to choose one and create a poem with it. With the use of a very civil coin flip, we settled on my pancake prompt. I was prepared to argue for my vision but my group was extremely open-minded.

I don't know if any other group decided to jump on my genius, but I did ask one of my friends to write a pancake poem just for fun. We ended up bouncing several crazy ideas off each other. Some involved armed robbery at the crack of dawn, others ended in murder. But most of them involved using the act of making pancakes as an euphemism for sex, mostly to describe infidelity.

The poems might not be about pancakes after all.