Frankie flesh ...

            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!”

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.”