Not long ago I read a passage from a 1989 journal which covered the summer before I went to Durham, England for a year. I was working in a local potato chip factory, an experience which inspired the following poem dated August 11:
“You smell like a potato chip!”
O mecca — hot cheez doodles
I lay them in their bed
hot snacks
so beautiful–
your wastage fills the waste bins
and we trail them to the dump shrine
wayfaring proletariat that we are.
O potato
O alienation
what are we breeding
the machine and I?
2 replies on “hot cheez doodles”
O dear, Tamika brought home curlique puffed-cheetos the other day for some unfathomable reason, and I was sent back in time to hearing horror stories of raining hot cheez doodles. I even felt guilty eating the aforementioned cheetos (but guilt rarely trumps gluttony so they made it to my gullet). What is UP, Ms. Cafrinie? Ps, I liked your pomme de terre poem.
Yes, I can imagine you reciting it. Enjoyed blog, the world should recognise your genius more!