as the cashier shoved
a greeting (howzit)
chicken fingers (fresh at 11
dead since who-knows-when)
sauce (who charges
seventy-nine cents
for a foil-covered cup
of honey mustard?)
and dasani (ganges water)
into a bag
i mustered
i'm good
eyeing his prominent pubescent pustule
he retorted
four-forty
i handed him
a limp ten
and got
my five (five)
my coins (and sixty)
my other bible (receipt)
my courtesy (havagudwon)
and as i sat down outside
on the wet bench under the awning
i dipped a little death
into my honey mustard
tasted name tag and india
and wished i'd bought barbeque
















Comments
I didn't really get the poem when I first read it, but I read it again, and now I do.
-Chloe
--
AKA ~007-crazynloveless
take off your -3 armour of "frigid bitch" and ill give you my +4 "phallace of mount doom" baby
--
Critiquing someone's prose or poetry is an awesome thing to do.
It's wonderful really, it shows exactly how crazy we as the human race can get, how far from anythign sensical, and at the same time provides a nice laugh for me and I'm sure most of the others that have read it.
I'm personally glad that you didn't get barbeque.
Nothing against you, but if you did, I might not have gotten to read this piece.
--
Harmonize your inward and your outward life, and you soul will know no bounds of joy.
--
"Live or Die, but don't spoil everything"
--
~burn-p0etry
~the-zodiac-club
--
~Reality cannot not exist without fantasy~
[link]
--
"I got used to bifocals and my dentures fit fine.
I can live with arthritis but I do miss my mind."
--
"I don't need to a compass to tell me which way the wind shines"
--
Teach yourself to sing! Make your spirituality a song..
Clubs that I am in: =Magic-Myth
~LoveDC~twisted-stockers
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