I don’t cook soup often
and it bothers me to have to do it
I don’t know why
maybe it’s that I don’t eat soups
unless they are served to me and made of
yesterdays grease, cream and uneaten chicken
or pork
but my son likes it for lunch and it’s
good for him
so his mother heats it, adding the can of water
and stirring
he eats hot food
I clean the dishes in hot water
my wife checks her e-mail
everybody’s happy
- Hoc Scripsi
chicago poetry. poetry for a people. poetry for a moment. poetry to satiate the need. poetry of an american outlaw. poetry for the best words in their best order. poetry by Jhon Baker
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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everybody but the chicken, that is...
ReplyDeletei make a mean pot of she-crab soup, and minestrone, and cream of potato w/bacon and...
ReplyDeletesorry, got carried away..
Nice day you had..
they say the way to a mans heart is through is stomach
ReplyDeleteNice flow, Jhon... I love the slice o life.
ReplyDelete... I hate making soup, too...
Pat - True! I think I would have named the chicken Henry. I don't know why.
ReplyDeleteLynne, bacon ummmmm, I've learned to like soup when I can have it served mostly my wife's cream of Chicken Soup - delicious and fattening - made with love and a dead chicken.
Anon, I always thought it was through his chest but the stomach works just as well,
Anthony, Thank you much, I don't know what it is about making soup that I'd rather not eat at all.
Ah! I loved this little vignette! I have very similar feelings towards soup.
ReplyDeleteThank you Talli, I wonder what it is about soup?
ReplyDelete