As will remark the batter, or really
dough that forms and boils and flounders
upon the remotest points of the scape -
to douse with powder and encapsulate.
Then by the dozen it's going well -
the machine dices and makes it quite
nice for mixing spices and dozens of
boxes for display of the next carnival
or girls scouting for breakfast.
And milk and chocolate the resides in
bread or a particulate type that
guarantees listless customers, bought
on the corner or concrete stretches -
bypassed by darling clear plastic.
It does stretch - or melt the air and
then heating the next batch, it's ordinary
to produce a right of reproduction,
a salaried bakery, known for its powder
and filling and centers and holes.
© 2015 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.