A bag of potato chips

There you stand
By the podium
Speaking in your
Voice so deep
And a charisma
So charming
That you’ve me
And all your audience

And mesmerize me,
You do everyday.
And even though
Your flirtatious glances
And touches
Are so very flattering, 
Yet I can’t,
But think of you
As this beautiful
Bag of chips. 
A can, I daresay
Of pringles!

I know you taste delicious. 
Hesitant though, I’m,
To open you.
For last time,
With the greatest zest
I opened a bag
To find mostly air
And a few number
Of broken chips,
Almost as if 
Staring at me mockingly. 

Nevertheless I ate it
And I ate it quick
And it was over so fast
That I felt bitter. 

I know not if you’re
A can or a bag
So scared, 
I keep you
In that shelf of mine,

Then again, 
What if someone
Knowing not you’re mine
Opens you and
Take you away from me?
Ah! Far greater a loss!
So with great care,
I’m opening you,
Hoping to find
Not air, but 
Perfectly flavored chips!

2 thoughts on “A bag of potato chips

  1. If someone takes your Pringles, May I suggest trying salt and vinegar kettle chips? They are so delicious! Also great poem I love where you went with that!


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