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
tongue
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?
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