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Late night snack poetry...



O Caramel Apple with Little Pecan Bits

Middle of the night,
Stumbling to the fridge.
I only wanted water.
I only wanted water.
But even now I am lying.
I wanted V-8 Splash.
I wanted V-8 Splash.

You are there with your sisters,
On two plates, like a harem.
Fresh and hardened,
Ripe and tender.
I don’t think.
I just grab,
Bite, and bite.

Do you know you’re delicious?
The caramel has just hardened.
You’re a little nutty,
And that’s okay, babe.

And you’re dripping,
This weird clear liquid,
All over the plate.
Are you sweating,
The small stuff?
Do you weep,
For your maker?
Do caramel apples with little pecan bits,
Have to pee sometimes?

I have to have more,
So I pick you up again.
A bigger bite, chewier.
I’d say something dirty.
But with my mouth like this,
It would only come out,

I remember your birth.
The cheap microwave mix,
The impaling of little sticks.
You’re homemade,
But you would never know.
Except for how the mix only lasted for five apples.
There were six of you, goddammit.

Why you gotta fuck with my dreams?
I was just getting water.
At 4-fucking-thirty in the a.m.
But now there are visions of you,
Sugar pimp mommy,
Dancing in my head.
I curse you, little sweaty harlot caramel apple.
You and your ho family.


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Marjorie and Denver Parker were a cruel, awful couple who made everyone around them miserable. But don't fret. They're real dead now.

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