He yearns for a move to the compartment next door,
(though there's talk the spoonies are a cult
he is attracted to their softness, their curves).
He yearns to move away from the steak knives
with their wooden-handled arrogance
and their sharp serrations.
Away from the regular knives who
laugh at his wussy handle pattern and his
dull, flat edge that's only good for spreading butter.