Anthracite

I grip the plastic bag and rip with all

my might and the satisfactory sound

of ripping graces my pleasure sensors

I stand and struggle, fighting

the last death throws are evident

but it does not give up

All I want is to put onions

in its belly to stop them

rolling around my trolley

People watch the vocal struggle

as I pull and blow at the opening

and I long for their cheer

I place both hands at the opening

and rub like I want to start a fire

there is a crack of weakness

At last there is an opening

I do not hesitate and with glee

I rip my prize open with pride

Take that my face says

and I look at others in the store

don’t mess with me

Securely parcelled in my trolley

I casually walk away like a hero

Now, where’s those bloody sausages.

This entry was posted on Sep 16, 2012 at 6:21 am and is filed under Happy little ditties. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.