adventures in dysthymia

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Super-Taster, a poem


Super-tasters, they name us
now, but as a kid
it was just picky eater,
and he’ll grow out of it.

Super-taster — is that
a super power, and all
those over-seasoned dishes
a sort of Kryptonite?

Never fear. A serving
of mashed potatoes, another
mild-mannered meal, and my
powers will return.

Stephen Brooke ©2014

Only a bit of silliness

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