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Foods to the Wall

When I was young, I would eat Surf and Turf.
There was no Pokemon, Potter or Smurf.
This meal was great and it might prevent scurf.
There were no gigantic squirt guns or Nerf.

I could have baskets of golden fried shrimp.
I wouldn't feed what's now caught to a chimp.
These shrimp were juicy and tasty, not limp.
They must think we are all some mental gimp.

Toys cost us pennies and sharpened our minds.
We hopped them up with our desperate finds.
These are all gone and were all different kinds.
This is beside all the food that now blinds

People to nature, all of it doped.
I wanted airplanes with that and I hoped
I'd make them fly or I desperately moped.
I don't know how, but I made them and coped.

Nothing today is so very much better.
We tie the racing cars up with a fetter.
Someone should write them and say in a letter
We want as fast as they go for go getter.

I got around a lot and I watched races.
Stock cars were stock or they spat in your faces.
Now you can't read that much and all the traces
Of what your dad drove are just cosmetic graces.

I never cared much for barbecued pork.
I had the best in the South at a fork.
It won't behave in a bun from New York.
It needs a bottle and spoon and a cork.

I saw the fastest car in the whole world.
It was all white and it whirled and it whirled.
It was a shoe box and nothing was curled.
It was called Chaparral, flag all unfurled.

June 21, 2007 Stephen Blumenkranz



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