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|| ODE TO PEANUT ||
|| BUTTER ||
|| ||
|| O’ dear sticky ||
|| substance, ||
|| How pleasantly ||
|| do you stick, ||
|| ||
|| To food, to knife, ||
|| to the roof of ||
|| my mouth, ||
|| ||
|| I scrape with ||
|| my tongue, ||
|| ||
|| On tomorrow’s ||
|| summers eve, ||
|| Wherever you lie, ||
|| ||
|| In fridge, cool as ||
|| ice, or pantry, ||
|| a mother’s warm ||
|| embrace. ||
|| ||
|| O’ dear extra ||
|| crunchy, ||
|| I do see you too, ||
|| ||
|| Lying in wait, ||
|| overshadowed by ||
|| your smooth friend. ||
|| ||
|| Chunks and nutty ||
|| remnants still ||
|| stick to my shirt, ||
|| ||
|| Never to be removed, ||
|| Never to be eaten, ||
|| Memorials to ||
|| sandwiches past. ||
|| ||
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