With apologies to The Spinners:
This, is my fork in the road
Next to that dead toad
Guess it fell from my load, oh no
It’s on the ground, now it’s up to me
To bow down gracefully
Though my stuff’s heavy, and get it
Whenever I need it, it’s still there
I use it to eat and, yes I care
I’d rather I lost my underwear
There on the ground
I, knew just what to pack
And if I cut myself slack
Some of my grub will slip away, but I know
There’s always a chance
I’ll catch some fish on the way, yeah
And cook them up over flames
And then I can eat again, but I know you know
Comment by TheGeezer on 11/26 @ 7:25 am #
There is also that pesky unbearable being of heaviness to consider.
Comment by Dan Collins on 11/26 @ 7:33 am #
It’s there in the dirt
Gazing back at me
To the sky through the trees
Forks have eyes, if you please
At least in poetry
Comment by BJTexs on 11/26 @ 9:03 am #
As one who appreciates how difficult these things are to write: Nicely done!
[bows]
Comment by ginsocal on 11/26 @ 10:29 am #
Sorry. Not getting it. At all.
Comment by TaiChiWawa on 11/26 @ 11:39 am #
Being is ontology. This poem is epistemologically themed from Hume’s fork to “I know you know.” Unless it isn’t.
Comment by ginsocal on 11/26 @ 12:23 pm #
Dur…
Comment by Sdferr on 11/26 @ 1:04 pm #
Is the fifteen second rule voided for utensils on backpack trips?
Comment by geoffb on 11/26 @ 2:01 pm #
Yes, but a campfire will sterilize them nicely at red heat.
Comment by happyfeet on 11/26 @ 11:07 pm #
Why is Allah linking James Dobson? That is a surpassingly gay thing to do I think. James Dobson. Ick. I have to flush my cache now.
Trackback by Tramadol 180 cod. on 6/25 @ 2:27 am #
Tramadol….
Taking tramadol while pregnant. Tramadol….