In the Kitchen

In the Kitchen, Where I Lay My Scene

Upon the counter where I lay my scene—
(Do join me, if your hands are clean).
From tamarind I strip the shell,
And pluck the seeds that there do dwell.

A curry brews—a fragrant blend
Of cumin, garlic, spice to send
A spark upon the waiting tongue.
Here, have some wine—both crisp and young!

A pinot noir? A chilled sancerre?
Or water, juice—what’s your affair?
Now wash the spinach, shake it dry,
Let it rest while onions fry.

The mustard seeds begin to pop,
A drop of oil—no need to slop!
Oh, mind the splatter! The smoke’s the cue!
And tell me now—how’s life with you?

Your bunions hurt? Oh, such a plight!
This growing old’s no joy that’s right.
No cure for that, nor foolish schemes
Of politics and broken dreams.

When will the Dems come to their senses,
Drop their vain and false pretenses?
Who holds their leash, who pulls the thread?
If it’s not us, then who instead?

We need them now more than ever
To stand up strong, pull every lever.
We need them now to show some spine  
Not hide behind a rainbow sign.

It’s a joke if they do think
It makes a statement wearing pink. 
We’ve had as much as we can take
Of blowhard poltroons on the make
Plus those who just pretend they can’t 
Tell their uncle from their aunt.

Citizens United—ha!
A game where votes are sold—tra-la!
A pinch of salt, a pepper grind,
A sharper thought—seek peace of mind.

Now zest that lime—come tie this thyme,
Add cashews, coconut—sublime!
And tell me, friend, what’s new with you?
(But mind the pot—it’s boiling through!)

Turn down the gas a notch or two,
No more  politics—I beg of you!
We’ve had enough of laws and orders,
Of borders blurred and crypto hoarders.

We’ watched them preen, we watched them steal,
We’ve had our fill—so here’s the deal:
Take a look, is that spinach stewed?
What’s that you say? You think we’re screwed?

I’m thinking you’re completely right
But we WILL enjoy this meal tonight. 
Doom may loom, but glasses clink 
So here’s to us, and let’s not think!”