The Imperfect Can of Soup
It sits there, amongst its brethren.
Thrown in the back, out of view...
behind his newer, pristine siblings.
Brought onto the shelf, exactly the same
as the rest; having the same goodness
sought by all who absolutely love soup.
Yet.. this can.. is overlooked...
by virtue of a small tear on its label.
Condemned by an insignificant imperfection.
Encased in steel, lined with tin;
the delicious ambrosia is preserved
equally across its line.
Its label is a mere distinction
of what is truly of worth...
what's inside.
(~1990's)
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