Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

That banana cake taste,
Grandma use to bake.
And was loved?
Is gone with the deep dish apple pie.

That smothered blade steak.
Served with black eye peas,
Collard greens and candied yams.
Sometimes with peach cobbler,
With rich vanilla icecream.
That too,
Locks in memories.

Those golden brown biscuits,
Fresh from the oven.
And topped with homemade,
Strawberry jam.
Or that cornbread no one can resist.
That too...
Is gone with the deep dish apple pie.

And today...
As grateful as I am,
To witness the arrival...
Of another Thanksgiving Day to celebrate.
I've never seen so many butts and thighs so wide.
And none of us who ate at grandma's,
Waddled from the table.
No matter what we ate.
Or nibbled all day...
On the honeyed ham,
Turkey sandwiches, potato salad...
Or just to sit to sip on eggnog.
None of us who ate at grandma's,
Waddled from the table.
Or stretched spandex!

Maybe fast food is fast!
But it sure is not nutritious.
Forget delicious.
It's just addictive and quick.
That's it!
And when we ate at grandma's...
We knew something whipped up with love,
Was coming out of the kitchen.
And not to sit too long,
Waiting for a decision made to eat.

And none of us,
Who came to eat to leave...
Did a waddle from the table.
Or stretched spandex!

'Why didn't you mention,
My fried chicken? '

I didn't even get a piece, grandma!

'Next time,
And stop running your mouth so much.'

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