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October 17, 2005
Poem of the Week
I Begin to Resemble an Old Man
Eggs shelled into a bowel.
The fork then enters the yolk
And swirls them (the eggs),
Incorporating the yellow into the white,
And these will be scrambled
In butter, in a cast iron pan,
Over low heat,
And the light, fluffy, perfect curds
Will be served, heaped onto warm china
And garnished with thin, sliced scallions,
Curled, on top.
Now, I like things, just so.
But it was not too long ago
That I was too fast
To go too slow.
I got so caught up
In the 6/8 jam.
But now I am beginning to resemble
That which I am becoming.
Damn!
John Michael Twomey, 10/16/05
Posted at October 17, 2005 12:01 AM
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