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Sad Tater Tale
~Sad Tater Tale~
How old, I wonder, are these spuds I find
in the broom closet, left here, perhaps,
by someone who might have loved me
some time ago?
Wrinkled taters, with your dull, white, eyes,
you must surely be blind to the hot-water fate
I consider offering up to you
this blue gobble day. And yes,
you lowely things,
it's just you and I,
as the water begins to boil.
re potatoes
confessions of a potato boiler:
a friend asked why i don't have a potato scraper...
i said i don't like to hack the eyes....
she thinks i'm crazy... i gave them up a while back but i missed them too much
This is superb!
This is superb!
Starward