|Through the windshield, Lynchburg, VA|
Guy Fieri, of triple D fame,
Diners, Drive-ins & Dives, on tv
stands behind a chef, prepping veg for soup
a little orange, a little green
for color, flavor, eye a-pealing
clack, clack, clacking the knife edge smacks
the cutting board with machine gun precision
'oh no, when you cook a turtle, leave it in its shell
to get all the goodness'
soft laughter, they banter about spice in the water,
proper texture, slip the top, release steam & shuck the home
right off its back with a wet sChLuCK
exposing everything in an ignored eviction
notice kinda way, returning home to find
neighbors plundering your stuff, curbed on the street
'oh this is yours?'
'you don't want it back, do you?'
as your tooth brush slides into their jacket pocket---
they're cutting again, only this time to commercial,
and wouldn't you know it's political, promises
only a vote will bring
some metaphors don't need explaining with experience
a common language between beings,
does a tree falling in the wilderness make a sound
with no witness? or if they are there, yet choose
to keep silent?
no, one question remains,
who to blame---the knife or the hand that wields it
or is it the witless turtle, farm bred
for consumption---a well cooked meal,
just got to find someone to fix it
'want to turn this off and play a game?'
'sure, which one?'
'dunno, MONOPOLY or LIFE ?'
'we could just go to bed'
we leave a light on, descend the stairs
and best we can----play the game
It is OpenLinkNight once again at dVerse Poets - bring your verse and come join the poetic party. Doors open at 3 PM EST.
'The game of game' is a phrase from a Nikki Giovanni poem I read a while back that stuck with me.