Set to lull
Beers swilled, shots tossed
Ink to page
Rip it up
Still a mess
Note to self
Give it up
Go to bed.
What is an ode?
Just a part of something else.
It’s unearthed in a mother lode,
And buried in a secret code.
Shaped inside a fashion model,
Sung amongst a mountain yodel.
Stomach rumbles, a little erp
Should have waited on the buttery popcorn.
Mouth opens, roiling burp
Wish I’d passed up that Tex-Mex chili dog, y’all.
My clenching stomach is swilling greasy
Shoulda said no gracias on the empanadas.
Makes me green and sickly queasy
A little nein on the brats and kraut would have been a good idea.
Stop this mechanized lightning bolt
Why didn’t I say no grazie on the porchetta panini?
Screeching wheels jar me to a halt
I couldn’t think of kekkou desu, no thank you, before I ate the sushi.
Let me off, find a bucket
The international buffet is making a come-back.
I worry about the tasty fishes,
Swimming with the sharks.
I’m sure the sharks look upon those little fishes,
As tasty, miniature, lunch-time dishes.
Karen S. Elliott was raised by a mother who wanted to be an English teacher and who worked for Merriam-Webster as a proofreader and an aunt who could complete the Sunday New York Times crossword in a day. Their favorite expression was, “Look it up!” Karen reads punctuation and grammar manuals for fun. Karen is an editor and proofreader, blogger, and writer. Her short stories have been featured in The Rose & Thorn Journal, Every Child is Entitled to Innocence anthology, Valley Living Magazine, BewilderingStories.com, and WritingRaw.com.