Supernatural Salted Crisps

[anxiousgeek]

Originally posted @ http://scruffy-duck.net
We had two prompts come up at our poetry group meeting last week. The supernatural and salt. I decided to combine the two.

Supernatural Salted Crisps

Starved, I stepped inside

the little dark newsagents.

Greeted, I was by

the little green man.

I did a double-take, and he just smiled,

so I dipped my head and looked around.

Slugs, snails, and Labrador tails,

magazines from Mars, and written by cats,

witches brews, and cans of diet horse snot,

I spied, with relief, a packet of salted crisps

and parted with my change when he spoke;

“Careful,” he said, voice a low hiss,

“Terribly salty, you’ll need a drink.

Perhaps some of this cows urine.”

Pretended, I did, to

consider his offer.

Politely, I refused

and smiled back.

Stepped back out into the sunshine,

opened up my salted crisps.

I wish, I had, perused the packet earlier,

before stuffing the crisps into my mouth

to satiate my hunger.

I felt the thirst, the green shopkeeper mentioned,

considered getting drink of water

when my skin suddenly became tauter,

and tighter, and with one last crisp,

I lost all my moisture.

Dust, I became,

and nothing more,

Cursed the crisps,

as the wind lifted me

from the floor.