|
|||||||||||||||
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
New designer bakery on once Hippie/blue collar street.
Fancy designs on bread. No unlimited butter or jam. Certainly not help yourself but pay all you can. Chairs barely fit an ample bottom. Coffee prices are certainly not skinny latte true. Bread's the kind you chew chew chew and then toss it to the hungry crows. Bread is something meant to be shared with the hungry, needy people everywhere. It should be a humble wholesome hearty kind of fare. I grew up in a place, a strategically fertile valley, which called itself The Bread Basket Of The World. But as a Nation, We ship War more often instead of wheat and grain to starving third world nations...its seems to be the trend these days...I've noticed. Well, maybe its always been. If my home state of North Dakota were to succeed from the Union, it would be the Third Largest Nuclear Power in the World. So enjoy your designer toast and remember you are luckier than most hungry people. Frankly, I would rather have the option to slather SALTED butter on my toast with lots of jam if I am going to indulge at a restaurant. I don't need to have such designer portion control. Well, I, again, need to be thinking about the third world countries who have no jam or butter or toast or even electricity or running water.. NOTE: I left my last three halves for the birds. Un-buttered, Un-jammed...it was not worth it to me. But the birds had a marvelous feast. Why am I writing this today...oh, I don't know...but to me it was worth thinking about...yes, maybe it is...gratitude for the little things makes us all more resilient. Thank God I don't have war at my back door. I only wish I didn't live in a nation who was so much a part of causing it all. (YES, these are times New Roman) LEGAL COPYRIGHT HELD TO THIS WORK AND THIS SITE TITLE Vote for this poem |
|