The Reality of Grits
When cold, grits won't mix
my pieces of cheese
into a smooth, creamy creation.
Mom's grits are butter-only.
A slice of Kraft is my only concession.
With calm deliberation, I tear
thin, cool strips which,
when torn again, become orange confetti
for the top of my grits.
With a spoon, I whirl the confetti
into the heart of my grits,
waiting for the white to adopt
a creamy, orange hue.
If I tarry too long before
coming to the table, my
punishment is assured.
Instead of a warm, creamy
orange creation, I just
get grits with cheese clots.
The reality is,
grits, when cold, don't mix.
my pieces of cheese
into a smooth, creamy creation.
Mom's grits are butter-only.
A slice of Kraft is my only concession.
With calm deliberation, I tear
thin, cool strips which,
when torn again, become orange confetti
for the top of my grits.
With a spoon, I whirl the confetti
into the heart of my grits,
waiting for the white to adopt
a creamy, orange hue.
If I tarry too long before
coming to the table, my
punishment is assured.
Instead of a warm, creamy
orange creation, I just
get grits with cheese clots.
The reality is,
grits, when cold, don't mix.
posted by Jules at
9:12 AM
1 Comments:
There are several images I like in here: orange confetti and cheese clots. I'm definitely stealing cheese clots. I don't know when I'll use it, but I've gotta find a use for it.
By
Donna Sewell, at 12:26 PM
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