Tonight, Steph and I made fudge. But some less-than-perfect shrimp cakes were mentioned during our conversation. Which reminded me of this poem, written when I was seventeen:
donations donations
for lonesome crustaceans
the old lady cried
with her fists at her side
can the rich be so hateful
to eat clams by the plateful
and deny them their decency, seaweed, and pride?
a dollar a penny
it doesn't take many
the toothless old hag
rummaged deep in her bag
just sign this petition
against seafood and fishin'
unless you're a commie out burnin' our flag!
2 comments:
1. What is the title of this poem?
2. Where is that old lady now? I don't know her, but I feel as if I do. I miss her. I wonder if I could have met her at a rally in NYC somewhere; or, perhaps, she served me coffee in a diner in Baltimore.
3. I want some shrimp 'n' grits right now, because of that poem.
1. I believe this was titled Animal Rights.
2. You may have met her either place. I believe she's living somewhere in Brighton Beach now.
3. Yum.
Also, 6:24 am? Darn.
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