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Fickle was a pickle
Who couldn't make up his mind:
“Am I truly firm, or juice?
More cucumber or brine?”
Betty was a sweaty girl
Who didn't give a damn:
“You're sliceable and crunchy
And you'll taste so good on
ham.”
Louie was a loaf of bread
Who didn't want to dry.
“Don't slice me please!” “Yes,
beg,”
Said Betty, “you're moister when you
cry.”
Gladis was a head of lettuce
Who'd started going brown:
“They'll never throw me all away –
They'll just keep stripping down.”
Mustafa was a mustard jar:
“They'll never throw you
out?
I've been on ice a year, but
Rarely more than shoved about.”
Bright Nicky was a knife blade:
“You sandwich-bound ingrates –
Distracted from your simple aims,
As Betty is now … too late!”
As Betty is now … too late!”
Nell was a stove-hot needle.
Teddy thread synched in her eye
While Billy blood
blessed
the
damned
sandwich:
“... and trashes
to
trashes –
good
bye.”
Distracted by an imaginary gang of muggers I was using to make more exciting the moonlit end of my run tonight, almost tripped and fell over an – actual – root sticking out of the ground. Luckily, my toes were up, so only the ball of my right foot scuffed the impediment. But still, it was a good reminder that, while preparation for eventualities is important, one's presence in the present should take profound precedence – 21 February 2013
ReplyDelete* Thanks to Dani (pretty-in-pink), Julie P. (cry-face & gas mask), Bella (Spartacus the car-accidented pup) Jonathan (Alcatraz knife cabinet shadows), Krista (orchestra pit), and the blogs contemporarymakers (the knife), the3foragers (garlic mustard), & whydochildrensteal (lamb's blood baptism in a pit) for making this collage full.