Sunday, May 22, 2011

Poetry: Mac 'n Cheese

So I just attended the wedding of two of my dear friends.  I had resolved to write some kind of poem in praise of love and marriage and post it here as a sort of tribute to them, born of the affection I bear for them.

But yesterday, even amid the joy of the reception, I felt a new emotion creep into me, one that eclipsed even my love for my dear friends.  I describe this new feeling as a sort of blending of unquenchable wrath and ravenous longing.  Due to the actions of a certain friend, something was denied me.  Something very important.

I'll let the muses say the rest:

Mac 'n Cheese

As I did sit at table taking my most well-earned ease,
I caught the scent of something wafting on the gentle breeze.
Aroma overpowering made all the world to freeze,
For I smelled nothing other than pulled pork on mac 'n cheese.

My heart did burst within me at the sight of that hors'douerve,
And so unto the waiter did I cause my course to swerve.
But when I came up next to him, oh, gosh, of all the nerve,
He did not have the mac 'n cheese to me I'd hoped he'd serve.

I went back to my table, a new strategy to think.
My friend (who had some mac 'n cheese) offered to fetch a drink.
Quoth he, "Good sir, I shall return more swiftly than a blink."
Yet when he came, I felt all love that dwelt within me shrink.

His right hand held a beverage that was bliss personified.
His left hand carried nothing (I don't think he even tried
To get that drink for me).  Right then something inside me died,
For both my hunger and my thirst were totally denied.

The next day, during breakfast-time, beside my 'friend' I sat.
With others at the table both my 'friend' and I did chat.
Yet always conversation seemed cleverly pointed at
My awful lack of mac 'n cheese.  Can you imagine that?

Indignity and torment were upon my poor self heaped.
My persecutors scorned me while imported tea they steeped.
Their mockery I bore with grace, though in my heart I 'weeped.'
With vicious words they tore me (on TV those words are bleeped).

The bee may have its flower, and the bride may have her groom,
But the flower of my longing withered 'fore it showed a bloom.
Learn well the lesson of this poem: the moment you must seize
If ever you hope to enjoy pulled pork on mac 'n cheese.

Forget me not.