Tuesday, January 09, 2007

OATMEAL LOVIN'
Yesterday was lots of work...lots. And by 11:30pm I called it quits and was about to pass out on that amazing blue couch of mine when Bigley and Mancuso stopped by telling me to get out of my "bot cave". So...I did. And off we walked, across the street, to the cafe for some midnight snackage. Oatmeal for me. With yummy brown sugar and raisins and some bronzed banana thing. This has been my random midnight snackaroo since I was a tot. Except then it was just a bit of sugar on the top and last night I had all the fixin's. But apparently...not as many as this guy...check out this crazy poem by Stephen Dobyns:

Oatmeal Deluxe

This morning, because the snow swirled deep
around my house, I made oatmeal for breakfast.
At first it was runny so I added more oatmeal,
then it grew too thick so I added water.
Soon I had a lot of oatmeal. The radio
was playing Spanish music and I became
passionate: soon I had four pots of oatmeal.
I put them aside and started a new batch.
Soon I had eight pots. When the oatmeal cooled,
I began to roll it with my hands, making
small shapes: pigs and souvenir ashtrays. Then
I made a foot, then another, then a leg. Soon
I'd made a woman out of oatmeal with freckles
and a cute nose and hair made from brown sugar
and naked except for a necklace of raisins.
She was five feet long and when she grew harder
I could move her arms and legs without them
falling off. But I didn't touch her much -
she lay on the table - sometimes I'd touch her
with a spoon, sometimes I'd lick her in places
it wouldn't show. She looks like you, although
your hair is darker, but the smile is like yours,
and the eyes, although hers are closed. You say:
But what has this to do with me? And I should say:
I want to make more women out of Cream of Wheat.
But enough of such fantasy. You ask me
why I don't love you, why you can't
live with me. What can I tell you? If I
can make a woman out of oatmeal, my friend,
what trouble could I make for you, a woman?


Thanks, Stephen!! But I think I'll stick to my little cup of oats.

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