Sonnets to the Mayonnaise
No need for food to stand erect and strong,
When globular it most delights my taste;
Grease-dripped and dolloped round my loaded plate,
It sings my soul a deep-fried glory song:
"O seize this day with fork's prodigious prong,
Subdue this lard to malleable paste!
Consume it now with great, with rapturous haste,
And then submit thyself to napping long!"
I am no transient servant to trans fats;
I pledge allegiance to the mayonnaise.
With breakfast, lunch, with dinner, and with snack,
I vow to serve my stomach all my days,
Until my eyes close and my limbs go slack,
And I pass into gustatory haze.
I say again, and yet once over again,
"A number three with fries and extra mustard,
Two cherry pies and one banana custard."
O feed me 'til my middle swells with pain,
My back bowed over with the whale-ish gain,
'Til bending forward leaves me fagged and flustered!
My fat cells, bulged and carbohydrate-lustered,
Squat round my face and clog my candied brain,
Cry "Eat once more!" O how can I not hear?
Thus I consume, consume, and pay the toll;
Though small my clothing grows, I shed no tear.
My belly blossoms with prodigious roll!
I'll gobble all the sundaes of the year,
And gorge the sweetness-craving of my soul.
Sent as a joke to poetry.com