Jul 21, 2009 22:07
An Ode To A Stale Cracker
Oh, stale cracker, despised thing of humid days and poorly-sealed packages,
dwell ye not upon pleasant crunchiness and sublime crisp textures,
but rather still, ponder the mushy softness that is thine,
the limp not-hard not-soft unsatisfying platform you provide
for peanut butter, cheese, and other spreads.
It is for you that I stay awake nights, hoping in vain for a tasty treat,
and receiving instead an insipid, disappointing saltine
fit only for bird feeding, soaking in soups, or pantry ant food.
What, pray, shall we liken you to ...?
The sweaty gray foam insole of an old sneaker?
Some offwhite weather-beaten industrial coating on a tugboat?
Residue from termite tunnels, compacted and shaped into a squarish form?
Damp cardboard found in a musty attic?
Composted fall leaves layered in a gutter, but lacking that tannic tang?
The delightful feeling is only heightened when, just as the spread is applied to your chalky surface, you crumble apart, or fall, gooey-side down, onto the floor.