“Living here wouldn’t be so bad,” the old man whined,
“but I eat dinner and hardly know I’ve dined.
Gravy with no grease, potatoes without salt
Toast with no butter, ice cream without malt
No more Tic Tac Red Hots in a mini tin box;
no more pinto beans with Louisiana Sauce.
No more Three-Alarm chili with icy-iced tea.
no more spaghetti-red with Tabasco for me.
No more hot peppers and country fried chicken,
they don’t serve ‘nothing’ worth finger linkin’
Give me some ham with Colman’s hot mustard.
And take away the cooks who serve me custard!”
(Writing201, Lesson Eight Poem Form: Elegy;
Subject: Flavor; Device: Enumeration)