This poem speaks for itself!


Savoury Showdown


I saunter into the store

in search of a newspaper

The starchy thinweights

are waiting for me

They swagger into view,

sock me

right between the saliva glands

punch me in the tastebuds,

stick it to me with visions

of crumb-coated fingers,

(last remains of the crunchy critters)

a taste as tangy as sin

lingering upon salt singed lips

and a tortured, temporarily vinegar stung


I reach for this devilish treat

devoid of all nutrition and redemption,

then I stop

I return

the lusterless, limp devils in a bag

to where they came from

“I’m bigger than you,” I reply

and leave them behind to brood

over their unsavoury situation,

in the dust.

© Irene Shaw~


How do you successfully navigate the treacherous waters of the wild junkfood West?