Magic Fridge/Cupboard – A Poem

This is a story of the places we go, when we’re all feeling tired, lethargic and slow,

Our energy sapped, in need of a kick…we have to get something to eat, and QUICK.

We struggle to rise from the spot where we rest, away from the couch and our blanket-warmed nest,

Walk into the kitchen and make a decision, “is the fridge or the cupboard where salvation is hidden?”

We couldn’t care less about which place or how, we just know we’re hungry, and we want some food NOW.

“The place that is closest is where I’ll first seek”, so we open the fridge and inside we peek.

A scan of the shelves show nothing good there, and the drawers underneath seem equally bare.

A half jar of pickles, an apple or two, that leftover pasta that’s turned green and blue,

That old slice of pizza? A sliver of cheese? (The smell of that pasta is weakening my knees…)

We scan from the bottom and make our way higher, but nothing there seems to fulfill our desire.

Defeated we stand up and close the fridge door, then walk towards the cupboards to search a while more.

We open the doors and start digging inside, “there has to be something I decided to hide.”

A big can of cherries, a packet of Jell-o, and three bags of sugar, plain white, brown and yellow.

A half bag of flour, some bouillon cubes, a bottle of soy sauce, a Vegemite tube,

After scanning the shelves, the search is complete, the answer’s official: There’s NOTHING to eat.

Slowly we drag ourselves back to our spot, what was it we’re watching? “OH YES, I’d forgot,”

Our brains push the thoughts of our hunger away, “until it is dinner here’s where I will stay.”

But something inside us keeps poking our brain…our stomach is starting to make us insane,

So something we just learned gets blocked in our head…we rise once again, to the kitchen we tread.

We dig through the fridge and paw through the freezer, “We ALREADY DID THIS, THERE NOTHING to PLEASE HERE!”

And BACK to the cupboards, there HAS to be SOMETHING, even though we JUST looked there and KNOW there is NOTHING.

What do we expect? What are we to find? Did a FOOD GENIE stop and leave good food behind?

Did something DELICIOUS appear just like magic? I’ve GOT NEWS FOR YOU, and it’s GOING TO BE TRAGIC.

THERE’S NOTHING TO EAT THERE, THERE’S NOTHING YOU MISSED, AND IN CASE YOU CAN’T TELL? NOW YOUR STOMACH IS PISSED.

You’re BACK to the couch and hungrier than ever, your chance at relief between little and NEVER.

You’re fighting the urge to go check again, YOU KNOW that there’s nothing, your search was in vain.

You try not to let them, but thoughts STICK to food, you can’t shake the feeling, your hunger pains brood,

I GIVE UP” you exclaim, to no one you’ve yelled, you’ve blocked out that memory of pasta you smelled,

THIS TIME I’ll SUCCEED” as you run to the fridge, “THERE HAS TO BE SOMETHING TO EAT, JUST A SMIDGE!!!!”

You’ve picked up a spoon, all dignity lost, “I’ll EAT SOME OF THIS 2 YEAR OLD APPLESAUCE!

A HANDFUL OF OLIVES, AND THE UNMOLDY CHEESE!“, (you slice off the good piece, the other half BREATHES.)

I’LL SPREAD PEANUT BUTTER ON THIS MELBA TOAST“, as you devour what’s left, just 2 pieces at most,

I’LL CHEW ON DRY PASTA, I NEED SOMETHING QUICK“, your combo of foods is increasingly sick.

SOME GARLIC ON CRACKERS, A SPOONFUL OF SAUCE, THIS OLD CAN OF PEACHES I SHOULD HAVE JUST TOSSED…”

“The whole is greater than the sum of it’s parts…”just doesn’t apply here, so don’t even start.

You’ve now crossed a line, there’s no looking back, your kitchen’s destroyed, all in search of a snack.

Where once there was cleanliness? Boxes and wrappers. A jumble of stains, a crumble of crackers.

You slink to the living room, filling with shame, “it’s nobody’s fault but my own, I’M to blame.”

Defeated and full, you’re back on the couch, but it hurts to lay down, so you sit up and slouch.

Your mission’s accomplished, but it comes at what price? Your stomach’s a mosh pit, it doesn’t feel nice.

You’re just glad it’s over, and now you can rest, you used to be hungry, and you’ve passed that test.

But what’s that you see from your spot in the room? The clock on the wall, and it’s spelling out DO:OM.

It mocks as you stare, you’d thought “I’m the winner.”, but it’s 4:55…

…it’s time to make dinner.

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