Wow, what an amazing four-line rumination on the existence of man and the meaning of life. This man, Dave, as he so calls himself, is clearly the preeminent bard of our time. He's a man born to be a poet laureate.

Let me take this line by line:

Roses are red

The first line of any poem is a very important one as it is through the first line that the poem introduces itself. Dave, here, went with an opening line that some may call threadbare. It's a well-trodden and, maybe even, overused line, but Dave uses it to form a sense of connectivity, to build an immediate rapport with the audience. It's a way to immediately relate the poem to the reader.

The first line is also one imbued with imagery. We can imagine roses, and we know what red is, so we imagine, very distinctly, red roses, but also it enables us to form connections with other red imagery: wine, oxygenated blood, stop signs, et cetera.

My name's Dave

Why would the bard need his own name tattooed on himself? Why would the bard need to write his own name in his own poem? Why would the bard tattoo his own name in his own poem on his own back?

My guess is, Dave, if that really is his name, is going through some sort of crisis. He has fallen out of touch with who he is. This ties in with the next line, and I'll get to that then, but it also ties into the first line. "Roses are red" is a declarative statement just as "My name's Dave," but the contraction gives the second line a not-quite-confident tone. Dave is certain roses are red, but I don't believe he is certain he is actually this "Dave" the poem so claims him to be.

This poem makes no sense

This clearly existential line immediately follows the line wherein the bard claims his "name's Dave." By claiming the poem makes no sense, I believe the bard is also claiming his existence makes no sense. He's searching for meaning, but he cannot find any, not in life, not in his name, not in this poem.

Microwave

The last line functions differently from the first line, which is introductory, but is just as important. As I said before, the first line could have been too familiar. It could have been a throwaway, but the existential turn, the uncertainty of the meaning of life made the rest of the poem a surprise. Everything comes out of nowhere. The audience doesn't know how to digest the poem after the familiar rapport of "Roses are red" was established.

But the final line, "Microwave," is something again concrete. It's something familiar. It's an image the audience can relate to, but things are much deeper than that. A microwave is, in a way, like a womb. You put something in it, and it gestates and heats up and grows and becomes something different, not else, but different and mature and ready to face the hardships of the world.

I believe the bard is saying he once again would like the certainty and warmth of a microwave because his life is so confusing, sporadic, and chaotic. As everyone else sees the world as all roses, all rosy, the bard is trying to find his way, so he introduces himself, but things simply don't make sense to him. He doesn't feel as though there is a place for him in the world.