Fossil Fuel (ice cream, that is)
Here's a poem about ice cream, accompanied by a mildly amusing advertising image for the flavour. I'm seeing to a tub of Peace of Cake right now, although it was giving me headspin so I had to pack it in. Usually I can handle my ice cream just fine.
Grass-legged on the dirty hillside
I euphorically murder this tub of ice-cream,
my second of week –
tasting its liquidification.
I try to eat my way through this Fossil Fuel
as if fearing the collapse of the American empire.
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