giovedì 28 novembre 2013

A Poem for Thanksgiving.

Turkey. Turkey. It's your day.
You are eaten every way.

Roasted. Baked. even Fried.
The only certainty: you have died.

Autumn-themes. Thankful memes.
Facebook's stream-of-consciousness screams.

Punchy pundits. Football games.
Cousins' cousins. Forgotten names.

NPR's wacky cranberry horseradish relish.
Airplanes cancelled. Travel is hellish.

Wait? What's that? A grumble in my belly?
Eat up. Transform. Get a bowl full of jelly.

That's the real secret of the day.
Physical prep for the next holiday.

Your inner Santa gets an outward push.
As potatoes and gravy pad your toosh.



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