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 

green jello salad thingy chillin’.

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!)