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03/16/09 - (2)
Comfort Food
Sunday afternoon, in quest of my youth's beloved comfort food, Its heavenly manna made flesh, I took an out-of-the-way trip to a far-distant grocery store,
Where I sold my soul, for a twin forty-ounce pack Of Jif creamy peanut butter And a loaf of "Soft, Delicious, Nutritious" Wonder Classic White.
Then I returned to my birth cave, with plenty of red meat In the form of enriched bread and a saturated-fat-laden spread — Edibles to keep me alive, throughout the evening.
But when I bit into the first of myriad scrumptious sandwiches, I saw seven dwarfs dead on my bedroom floor. Each had choked on a Jif-coated slice of poison apple.
That night, like a savage in his rank den, I ravaged my creamy peanut butter and fell into a stupor, Dreaming Snow White would arouse the boy in me, with a kiss.
03/16/09 - (2)
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