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Personal Note:

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Poem

There's ketchup in my veins,
Onions for my eyes,
Lettuce instead of brains
Makes me less than wise

Stringbeans for legs,
Cauliflower ears,
Pistachios for muscles,
Greener than Irish beers

Feet than seem like melons,
Hands like baked pork chops,
Hair like thin spaghetti
Tears like lemon-drops

I try to avoid dogs,
They seem to follow me,
Eager to take a bite
Lunch is what they see

I stay out of restaurants
Where chefs approach too close
All they see is a new recipe
A brand new type of roast

My neighbors are all cannibals
They invite me over to dine
They look at me hungrily
And try to match a wine

Seems I am the main course
Humongous pots they own
Boiling water and vegetable
They mix with greatest glee
Ask me if I'd like a warm bath
But now I began to see
Them licking their lips
In eager anticipation of my offered "bath"
It started getting easier
For me to do the math...

I put two and two together
And I was Sunday lunch,
This I was fairly sure of,
Seemed more than just a hunch

I said I couldn't join them,
I had a poisonous rash
Saw my opportunity,
And made my fastest dash

Now I order home delivery
Get my groceries through
a large slot in the door,
And as far as dining out
is concerned,
I'll never do no more.

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