“Clouds of Bacon”


Vapors of maple
invade my hairy nostrils
The sizzle and popping
float through the air
They fill my nights
and they make my day complete
That decedent meat
they call bacon
Calls me and haunts me
it hurts so good
Swimming in a sea of grease
fatback never tasted so good
Upon an old electric range
inside of an ancient iron skillet
Sits my meal
the thing that gives me life
Excuse me
but I need to be alone
Alone with my desire
and my thoughts.

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