No Stigma
Ingesting cola with my pasta sauce,
I bear no stigma of the false gourmet.
No one believes I'm filling up my tray
With Belgian foie gras as the coup de grĂ¢ce.
I've often said to Essie's chef, "No mas!"
(He hails from Argentina.) "Put away
That spork!" cries Essie. "Do I have to say
Once more, give up this mishigas?
Hot dogs, and iced tea in a paper cup,
With plenty of hot mustard. Not too posh,
And my best trousers won't run in the wash,
So tell the man I'll have another pup;
I pour on ketchup, and I suck it up,
Drinking my cola with spaghetti squash.
I bear no stigma of the false gourmet.
No one believes I'm filling up my tray
With Belgian foie gras as the coup de grĂ¢ce.
I've often said to Essie's chef, "No mas!"
(He hails from Argentina.) "Put away
That spork!" cries Essie. "Do I have to say
Once more, give up this mishigas?
Hot dogs, and iced tea in a paper cup,
With plenty of hot mustard. Not too posh,
And my best trousers won't run in the wash,
So tell the man I'll have another pup;
I pour on ketchup, and I suck it up,
Drinking my cola with spaghetti squash.
2 Comments:
Stopped by to return the compliment, and my goodness! What a find. An entire blog in wond'rous fourteem lines.
Does this constitute a postmodern sonnet sequence? A cyber-sonnet sequence?
I wish I could have responded in kind, but I am still quite tired. Poesy requires much in the way of focus and fortitude.
Thanks, Mike. There was a sequence of thirty that I ran, some months back, but these are mostly just what I've been writing. There are a couple of sequences not published here, but I try to keep this fairly easy to follow. I'm still working pretty hard at it, and will slow down once I have 365 sonnets up. I'd like to think that a sonnet for every day of the year would improve some lives. That is, I don't actually think so, but I would like to think so . . .
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