Part I: Yearnings
My soul! it cries for comfort of a sort
To soothe the aching brain and calm the heart
And too, my stomach does its mass comport
To send its rumblings into every part
My tongue it thrashes to and fro in vain
My salivary glands do fruitless labor
Throughout my belly rings an empty pain
As if ’twere disemboweled with a saber
What shall I do? This hunger racks my frame.
It cries for remedy, and care most tender.
What shall I do? How shall I quell this flame?
My guts are as if put into a blender.
The balm is plain to see, just as you please.
It requires these the noodles, this the cheese.
Part II: The Quest
So to the mart I go to seek my fare
Among the hundred aisles I boldly search
And here I find a biscuit, here a leek
And over towards the back some salted perch
But when it seems that hope is truly lost
And all my plans for dinner come undone
I pass again below the grave sign “Past-
a”, there to seek the prize which must be won. (Shh, it’s enjambment.)
And there my goal, my shining Xanadu!
The box of cardboard, holding little arcs
of noodles there within the cheerful blue.
(My hair it stands on end, and gives off sparks.)
It is a box of Kraft on which to dine.
The bargain price: a dollar thirty-nine.
Part III: The Resolution
I charge into the kitchen, box in hand
My goal: a pot, and water thence to boil
So I may cause these noodles to expand,
and for the sauce of cheese, I’ll need some oil.
Heretic! you call me. I’ll deny it.
For the flavor’s in the sauce, the liquid cheese.
And if I may, to teach you, ruin your diet,
Pure vegetable oil is the way to please.
Butter and milk does make a runny sauce;
Butter alone has savor more by far.
But oil will make you rue your lifetime’s loss
That ne’er before you knew cheese thick as tar.
The noodles boiled while we did poke and tease.
Let’s sink our struggles in the mac and cheese.