Monday, March 21, 2005

Ode to frozen peas

Oh bag of frozen peas,
I love the way you crunch,
when I slam you on the table,
breaking you up for duty.

Crispy cold you comfort,
bonded to my shin,
cooling off my sweaty legs
tied on with an old sock.

In minutes you are squishy,
the heat has made you soft,
green liquid leaking out,
but pain's replaced by numbness.

Back in the box you go,
on the shelf next to the chicken,
where you wait for me to take you
out into the world again.

Your duty it is sacred,
for you will not be eaten,
like carrots, ice cream or burritos,
you, doctor of the freezer.

p.s. I've apparently lost my mind.

Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?