It’s a mine field.

I step into the kitchen, and

Everywhere, booby traps.

We have pie squared.

We have piles of turkey remnants.

We have a close encounter

Mountain of potatoes waiting

For a sculptor to shape it.

The homemade cranberry sauce

Puckers in a serving bowl.

I’ve been stuffed by the stuffing.

I’ve been beaten by biscuits.

I’m whipped by the cream.

I’ve taken sips the mini-Reese’s cups

Each time I pass by.

I’ve got a doctor’s appointment soon.

There’s no hope.


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2 responses to “Leftovers”

  1. asipoblog Avatar

    Ah, but there is hope — you have a great heart Jerry!

  2. Jasper Hoogendam Avatar

    I hope you don’t get egged. Oh, maybe egged to adjust your diet to accentuate the mood you are in.

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