Supper’s on the table
With sour cream and chives.
One more day of waiting
To see if I survive.
All the pieces are in place
I even bought dessert;
Everyone is happy,
And I am going berserk.
I might sleep beneath a tree tonight,
Stay up until the dawn.
Something’s got to tear loose soon,
Or I am going down.
Forget the happy endings.
I ride the universe.
My hangnails all have offspring.
A thin shell over nerves.
So I conjure, and I write.
This path or that, I try,
Shove made up folks down fancied roads
Where I feel more sane and sigh.
I’m standing on one shaky leg,
Looking out for any handhold,
All preciously grabbed in gratitude
As I read tales I’ve told.
8 Responses
Salmonella, Botulism
Last night I took a frozen chunk
From the freezer, and with a thunk
I set it on the kitchen counter
Where I left it, and forgot ‘er.
This morning when I found it there,
All thawed out, I did despair.
Do I keep, or throw it out,
Was it safe? I had some doubt.
Salmonella, botulism,
Intestinal paroxysm,
What a shame, I said aloud,
Of this soup I was so proud,
Baby limas, chopped sweet onion,
Chunks of ham, then cooked till done.
Dare I eat it? Is it safe?
On me the stress began to chafe.
Tonight I poured it in a pot
And boiled it ‘til it was hot.
I let it boil a little longer,
With wooden spoon I did a-stir,
Hoping it was safe to eat
If I made sure to over-heat.
Salmonella, botulism,
Intestinal cataclysm.
I smelled it first, then tasted it,
Then I ate it, every bit.
If I should die before I wake,
Blame it on the beans I ate.
§
Bahaha. Or
Feed it to your spouse
Like the court of old
You might feel like a louse
But aren’t you so bold
“Dare I eat it? Is it safe?” These are lessons best learned over an ice cold double Smirnoff. That won’t kill the bacteria, but it does kill the worry. 🙂
Gullible you are too funny!
Welcome rain last night prompted this tribute.
…
Resurrection
……..
Rain soaks the parched earth
Bringing forgotten plants to life.
A resurrection of my soul.
Green arms gesture skyward
Offering thanks to an unknown spirit.
Prayers of silence seen not heard.
Summer’s heat attacks without mercy
And plant life surrenders without tears.
Their time will come again.
The cycle of life. I’m somehow reminded of the final scene in Star Trek II. “Their time will come again.” Nice.
– Estate Sale –
My horse is tilted
and leans against the fence
under the watchful eyes
of bakelite crows
who lust styrene corn
faded white from the flash
a Christmas Kodachrome
alone in a box
behind the dry sink
picked up by the movers
transparent keeper of
frozen reflections
raised up to the light
shares a long held image
of lazy childhood days
oh so long ago
on my happy farm
with the lithographed barn
That was superb.