Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Monday, August 22, 2005

Ode to My Bougie Tendencies

I can't believe how fresh you are,
How vineg'ry and tart,
I'll withstand the long long lines
I'll withstand my evening farts.

To eat your lunchtime freshness
Is to munch a maiden's tits,
I'll suckle at your jug-like
Chicken Provencal with grits.

YOU know what you do to me.
You know who you are.
You know you rob me daily--
You're the Whole Foods Salad Bar.

You make me look all bougie
When you lure me to your palace
But I've fallen down your tempeh hole
Like a frightened little Alice:

The Queen of Hearts of Palm is angry
I ate her whole damn platter,
And this real convincing olive loaf
Swears that I'm Mad Fatter.

You know I need your 'agus,
You know I need your 'choke,
You know I need your rigid whites
And crave your creamy yolks!

My bloodstream hollers "protein!"
And, with open arms to boot, you
Clamor back, "TUSCAN BEANS!"
(And then I whisper, "toooot.")

My shrivelled leather mug says "water!"
Your apples yell back, "HERE!"
I think, "Yes, that's just the ticket
To compliment this coffee/beer."

You see? I don't-- you finish--
All my--sentences HAHAHAHAHA
You know just where I'm ticklish,
You love my lisp, my ratty bras,

I'm broke but never lonely,
With your fresh and herby treasures.
And SNAP I'll get all nasty
On your sister, Healthy Pleasures.


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