Succotash
I am not a Succotash man.
There is only so much my pallet can stand.
Each portion belongs to its own.
The hype of variety way overblown.
People tell me to change it up
To toss it around inside the mixing cup
To chew and enjoy all as one
Finding pleasure with a garbled chum
For me, I see too much strife
With the heavy-handed spices of life
Swallowing mysteries too hot to handle
Vicariously living in a lurid scandal.
There is only one meal chosen for me.
It’s the one I long for constantly.
A divine dish made from the Chef above
The meal I speak of is you, my love.
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