Salty with a tang
My Great Aunt Nita’s little gift
To make us happy…
They are
I’m not
I worry like a mother about her child
She’s gone again
Dead to the world
No matter how much shaking and calling I do
She’s gone
Another breaded miracle in my mouth
Yum
Momentary bliss, a high
Then the crash
Fried pickles distract, but
Once reality returns
I’m still worried
She’s still gone