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Oil of Oregano

Running a fever which mocked her she took ibuprofen and a bath. Wondering, should she call the doctor, she decided on a cheaper path. She called the diner on the third floor, ordered pizza (she cannot resist ‘em). Oven-baked in a shop just next door, “Deliv’ry in thirty.” - What a system! An earache had now come upon her, she applied some oil of oregano. No cash! hopefully her check they'll honor doorbell rings, duty calls, “It’s DiGiorno!” Noting the nuanced aroma, guy smiled, “Is that oregano I smell in New York? Then he begged for a piece, like a child, but she chased him from her flat with a fork. April 8, 2020

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Date: 2/5/2025 12:32:00 PM
Hi Reason. Such a pleasure to read a variety of your poems today, spanning several years. Your pizza poem is spritely, cute, - fun is tricky to capture in verse, - yours leaps into vision!
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