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  • I love to cook, and when the shelves are barren of any obvious choices, It’s only then, that I tend to get creative, and only then, that I get domestic enough to decide to clean.

    It is then, that I clean out the fridge, dispose of those science experiments that have been there since Jesus was in junior high, and only then, do I make what I can, with whatever may be left.

    The results can be mixed. Some are gems, some are simply vulture-like in their nature, with a toxicity that is just waiting for a weakened stomach to attack.

    This is a short poem that I wrote for those days, when I’m left with so few options, and poverty has reared it’s ugly head again:

    Cream of bottom shelf; (a recipe for disaster)

    There is some measure of pleasure
    in consuming what you create.
    Unless there’s any question
    in what the hell you ate!
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