oh yeah...that and a piece of fried chicken

i.

nothin prepares us so well for hope

than to breakfast on despair.

nothin prepares us so thoroughly for despair

than to eat bacon from high on the hog.

ii.

such relief finally to pull up a chair

to the kitchen table of heart and mind

to look at what we're serving up inside,

the soup du jour in the bowl of the soul...

then spoon and blow with delight

ah, my hat! my crow! my humble pie!

iii.

which explains so beautifully

the odd sense of well-being

to self-joust with

the right amount of cynicism

iv.

it's okay to observe these mastifications

and laugh as often as we find us sitting there

dipping snuff with such pleasure and thinking

my, my, what a nice coconut pie