The Thanksgiving Tragedy
In the middle of the supermarketOn aisle 8 where I find the bread
I struggle with my cart and park it
Then stare and scratch my head
I am looking for the bargin rolls
Eighteen people are coming to eat
Another cart rolls over my toes
Torchering my suffering feet
With rolls on top I push the cart
along the dairy case
Thanksgiving shopping is like an art
Paired with a NASCAR race
Soon I need to make my move
I want to be near the cheese
But I'm stuck in a cart-line groove
Lady, move an inch, please!
I'm coming around the last aisle
my cart is bulky and bloated
I see a new register open and smile
But there's another cart fully loaded
I grit my teeth and head straight in
I'll give no quarter today
The other driver gives a nasty grin
And nods, a challenge? Okay!
The noise of the crash wakes the dead
We see them walking around
Their eyes bulge out of their heads
As they seek to silence the sound
It sounds like hell for aluminum
Where bad cans and carts must go
And deamons there consuming them
screech and scream and crow
The sight is even worse
The crowd has turned their heads
A naked turkey has burst
The gizzard runs bloody and red
The stream of blood has run
Upon a broken pie
The pumpkin custard is done
It's a terrible way to die
The cranberry sause is seeping
All over cracked up eggs
And the pickle relish is weeping
As the broccoli simply begs
We'll have Thanksgiving this year
We'll give thanks as we should
We'll do it with a tear
And say, the bologna sure was good!
Poetry by Phyllis J. Rhodes
Read 652 times
Written on 2006-11-21 at 22:11
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