I always thought he must have been somewhat of an ass, if that poem is any indication. I mean, he ate the plums even though he knew that someone had saved them for later, then he goes on about how great they were.

True, true. Though I must admit that I sent that poem to someone as an apology once...

He has another plum poem:

munching a plum on
the street a paper bag
of them in her hand

They taste good to her
They taste good
to her. They taste
good to her

(from The Poor Old Woman)