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Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Tryptophanic Sugar Buzz Blues

Athens, Georgia
November 30, 2011

I don’t bake turkey
      Thanksgiving Day.
Don’ bake no turkey
      Thanksgiving Day.
But sis-in-law cooks Butterball
an’ ain’t no shame to give a call
when all I hafta do is pray.

The feast is spread,
      it’s laid before me.
A mighty spread
      awaits before me.
just who to thank, you make the call –
the cook gave labor, bird gave all,
the voice inside cries bless the fowl.

I said a prayer,
        and then I toasted.
Cried out that prayer,
        then blessed and toasted
Fifteen pounds of turkey roasted
brown and juicy, packed with stuffin’
made from crumbed corn bread muffin
whipped potatoes mounded creamy
drippin’ pools of giblet gravy,
bowls of butter beans with ham
hot casseroles of squash and yams 
Ready now, we’re set, we’re willin’
Lordy mercy make us able:
eat our fill and leave the table.

      And it’s –
      First big helpin’, belly bulgin’
            Twenty pounds of pieces scattered
            all across the turkey platter.
      Second helpin’, belly bloatin’
            Thirty pounds of tryptophene
            still lyin’ round about the scene.  
      Final scrapin’, belly breakin’
            Forty pounds of scraps remainin’
            call the dogs, my stomach’s achin’.
      My oh my, this grown man cry
            ‘cause here come’ sweet potato pie
            an’ pumpkin, pecan, apple crumb,
            in whip’ cream bliss just let me lie.

Tonight I’ll toss
      in bed and dream.
Oh Lord I’ll turn
      and squirm and scream:
The Lady of the Gravy lake
is bakin’ spells I cannot shake  
while mired within my sugar swampland
turkey zombies slowly stalkin’
candied yams approach gyratin’
devil’d eggs incarnate Satan
wafting ghastly sulphur haze
and through the stuporifous daze
mad bargain shoppers pepper spray
their fevered way into the scene.

This ain’t no ordinary thing,
Thanksgiving night I got again
the sugar crusted, diet busted
sweet tea sweatin’, midnight frettin’,
stomach churnin’, belly turnin’
blood congealin’, colon squealin’
bowel blastin’, pyroclastic
nostril flarin’, zombie scarin’
Tryptophanic sugar buzz
      Blues.

(Now don’t be lettin’ this happen
to you!)

1 comment:

  1. Such fun to read.... and re-read and smile when I need one.

    ReplyDelete