Advice from a Schizophrenic Angel …by Robert Gardner

It is four a.m. but I don’t understand,
I ask, “Oh, what is the meaning of Spam?”
An angel dressed in red appeared,
And whispered, “Here I am.” –

“My fevered flesh is not your friend,
So feast on broccoli without end,
A cabbage head, a radish red,
Who never knew the farmer’s pen,
And never heard the hunter’s gun
Is better than the norm –
So now let only croutons be
Your salad’s simple luxury
In colonies of humble green,
In lands where ‘Spam’ is heard –
Not seen”.

*

Copyright 2017 Robert Gardner

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Author: Emma Beane

"My history is still one of those mysteries I struggle with every day..." - [ebeane] ... All original works Copyright Emma Beane

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