[Stylist] Poem: "Rotisserie Chicken"

[Abraxas Ardent]

HI Stylists,


Just finished this poem and thought I'd send it along. It's not 
especially seasonal, but it occurred to me in this time of feasting. I'm 
pretty sure it's clear of typos; I've switched to Wordpad instead of the 
bare bones WP which comes with JAWS, and it bleats about misspellings as 
a matter of course.



--Brax



---



Rotisserie Chicken

Abraxas Ardent  copyright 2018
United States of America
All Rights Reserved

As meals American go, it's humble fare,
the roasted bird a bargain for one happy sawbuck.
I'm no chef anyway; home again,
I rip the plastic off, and tear at it with
comic frantic fingers, pop the sweet breast meat in and glory
at the nearly fearful ease of our dining.
It's as if we're fairy tale princelings,born to savors,
and weaned on turtle soup with a silver spoon.
I'm no lugubrious grouch about it, but I reflect
at each fiftieth feast, or seven hundredth,
that food and fire and toasty bedded rest
come to me not for my superbly moral chic,
but by happy accident, the vagaries
of fate and lucky seeding in the last generation of our nation's
boonful middle class. And I'm not a glutton
or crass about the gills, but humane and mindful and good,
and primed for a wise and hilarious heaven.













-- 


"A crack in the teacup opens a lane to the land of the dead." --Auden