Pork Rinds
a Poem by Raquel Swann
It’s a torture,
listening to your lips
smack together
and your teeth grind
as if you were chewing
on bones.
MUNCH – CRUNCH – MUNCH – CRUNCH
We sit eight feet apart
but your snacking has
invaded my territory
collapsed my will
drove me to the brink.
I leave my cubicle
plotting, planning
on how I can attach
a feedbag to your face
without losing my job.
They are like air..
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Not coming from this woman’s mouth!
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The puffy chicharones brand is very soft and fluffy. Didn’t mean to rhyme, just a natural poet with that.. Lol😀😁👍
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