They grew free
in clusters
like crab grass
and we snapped
them up as
snacks.
Pulverized
and slathered on bread.
Now they are
dirty brown demons.
Expelled from schools
banished from baked goods.
A killer among us.
and on has to wonder
which frightens more:
the affliction, or the fear
of affliction.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
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2 comments:
I hate that people are allergic to everything. You think that peanut farmers 75 years ago had peanut allergies? I don't know it's kind of a junk poem.
Adam Carolla has a book called "In Fifty Years, We'll All Be Chick." I haven't read it but that's what this poem makes me think about. People wear surgical masks in public. It's crazy. Allergies are no laughing matter, but we give up so much to accommodate the very few. I think that's the bigger issue your poem addresses.
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