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Open Poetry #50
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Eggs ala Gorical: Miss Benedict Was No Lady, But She Sure Could Cook...
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Open Poetry #50
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Eggs ala Gorical: Miss Benedict Was No Lady, But She Sure Could Cook...
| Open Poetry #50 |
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Eggs ala Gorical: Miss Benedict Was No Lady, But She Sure Could Cook... |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror 
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I’m thinking of Miss Benedict as I make myself some scrambled eggs Cracking open the shell on the side of this deep Pyrex bowl, I know there’s always a risk some bits of shell will get mixed in I claw them out with a fork then add milk, butter, herbs, and begin to whisk The milk and yoke appear not to blend at first... but as the steady beat of my whisking quickens, it becomes harder and harder to tell the difference Boundaries blur, liquid and solid cease to exist...all are one in this delightful amniotic union I pause for a moment to gaze, transported on this frenzy of fluffy yellow clouds... then proceed with the ritual exaltation of toast, laid upon the glorious, moist cushion, onto which I spoon it Lovingly, licking the spatula clean...Mmm. I dislike the mess...you know, the aftermath, the dirty plates and all If it were up to me, I’d smash the lot of them, smearing egg residue on the walls Maybe I’d rub some into her hair and down her blouse Then roll around forever in this dirty Frantic... Ovular... Heaven...  ...just bein' Bluesy |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
Well Bluesy, We know eggsactly what is on your mind and that's no yoke. So you find scrambled eggrotic do you? To each his own, I prefer chocolate.  ~L |
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Bluesy Socrateaser Member Elite
since 2002-11-07
Posts 2417In The Mirror |
Yes, Miss Lori...had my twigs been bent in another direction, I would never have left "Miss Benedict" alone in her kitchen...even if it were raining outside. Thanks for the read, m'dear.  ...just bein' Bluesy |
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Eggs ala Gorical: Miss Benedict Was No Lady, But She Sure Could Cook...
