Caridad's Entry #5

"Peanut Butter Cream Pie"

Feb. 22, 2004

Upon waking up (again) in a gray and brown, wood and cement home where six screaming, whining, giggling children live and their mothers shout at them through paper thin walls while I listen to Jack Johnson on headphones... and then I begin to write.

Donít give me your sass,
Your glass or your gravel.
Donít give me any metal pot clang
Or thick boot clunk.
Donít add your egg shell crunch
To my cheese omelet fluff.
Donít give me your beef
All toughed out and roughed up.
Donít give me your spice either;
Thereís no need to get fired up.
 

Give me whatís been
Beaten, sweetened and softened.
Give me the part of you
Thatís no good for work
Or a balanced meal.
Give me your peanut butter cream pie:

Smooth
and slow.
The part of you
That doesnít always have words,
But closes the eyes,
spreads the smile
 

And says, ďMmm-hmm.Ē