Ode To My Refrigerator
I've grown quite fond of the old gal in my house.
She lights up when I look for a snack,
more welcoming than a spouse
in a midnight tryst. She never gives me flack.
I value my fridge more than a vault,
but sometimes I open it and I'm repelled
by the scent of something fuzzy and green.
"That stinky odor is my fault,"
I cursed with words that were obscene.
The stench is worse than anything I've smelled.
Half a roasted chicken carcass, wrapped in foil
has been in there for days.
Kept for making stock after it would boil,
but it's long past that phase.
Not sure but I think this is deli meat
inside a bottom drawer.
No, thanks. Think I'll pass. It's too slimy to eat.
I see a container with shriveled peas
and something crystalized in a jar.
I've lost my appetite... aw, geeze!
I know there's cheese in here somewhere.
Ugh. It's gotten moldy.
Now, I'll have onion soup without gruyere.
Can't blame my refrigerator. She's a golden oldie.
She does a great job of chillin'
and winks at me, day and night,
but forgotten things start growing penicillin.
There's some, but it's just a smidge.
Glad I saw it before I took a bite...
Thanks to the beam of light inside my fridge.
February 23, 2023
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