Deep Fried Caviar or I Hope You Get the Gout
How is it hateful people live forever?
The years are too kind to the greedy.
The upper crust without a crust
of stale ass white bread to spare
for all those folks on the draw.
For all those food stamp recipients
trying to get their bellies full
on cold condemnation and contempt
and hot dogs.
How come hateful people
get to eat their fruits and vegetables?
And toss away leftovers
like somebody wouldn’t eat them?
I imagine they’re gorged by now,
on sparkling clean water and caviar
or whatever those kinds of people
stuff their faces with these days.
I heard plain old fish eggs
ain’t fancy enough anymore.
Too common. The rarity has worn off,
taste buds have changed.
Wonder how caviar would do dropped out
into patties to go along with gravy and biscuits?
Stiffened up with Hudson Cream flour
and deep fried in lard till the edges
get just crispy enough.
2 thoughts on "Deep Fried Caviar or I Hope You Get the Gout"
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Wow, Misty! I totally get the bitterness here. Scorching poem.
Great
food
for thought