Friday, February 4, 2011

The wrong stuff

I had a dream
about peanut butter.
It was the only food in the house;
in cupboards, fridge,
even in the freezer frozen in ugly fecal lumps.
The horrid stuff was everywhere.
My clothes reeked of it,
a sugary barkish aroma.
How could Carter, scientist
and Carter, farmer, abide it?
Just as I thought I'd go mad
someone arrived, a shadowy figure
in peanut butter brown trousers, with a peanut brown bag of
staples - flour, butter, sugar, eggs, salt and milk.
Oh welcome bland things not
this awful ochre shade!
Thank you strange visitor, peanut guardian or avenger!
I woke up rejoicing, for I'd been gifted a solution,
a way to dig myself out of this peanut butter hell!
Exterminate the bastard glop quickly, efficiently, and perhaps, yes, with joy!
Dove, I said,
Let's bake cookies.