on this twentieth of march

the poet slept like a log

once he had taken medication

for his shoulder joint pains

no wonder/ as it had snowed

at night

the morning’s air fresh/ but

off to the social shop

fill his trvel bag with good

selected foodstuff:

ratatouille from the deep freeze

bakeries and whole wheat rolls

vanilla cescents/ bitter chocolate

carrot juice/chicken with rice

and some curry sauce/ uncle ben’s

rice with quinola/ three oranges

from spain.

all good enough for a week and

more/ until a monthly minimal

pension arrives

were it not for my muse mmm

i wouldn’t have tasted delicious


filled with superb apricot jam

from her favourite pastry shop.

from the five piece box

the poet ate three immediately

delightful. fluffy. irresistible.

his evening meal.




zjg poetry’21.

One thought on “donuts

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