I’ll Check Back In 20

Pathetic is the word that springs
To mind when I inspect the things
That shelter in my Frigidaire.
It’s nearly Hubbard-cupboard bare,
Discounting several chunks of cheese;
A cure for some unknown disease
In incubation on a heel
Of sourdough; an orange peel,
Unbroken, yet distressingly
Concave in spots convexity
Might rightly be expected; and,
For reasons passing understanding,
One pristine green head of lettuce,
None of which is going to get us
Nearer that of which the nut
Is this: I ought to eat, but what?

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About Michael

Silliness is good
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