Bacon: an ode

A single slice still
on the serving plate too late I realize
I failed to savor what I already ate

and now am carried away by visions
of delectable crispy flesh
slowly melting on my tongue
guilty ecstasy of clogged arteries
nevertheless keeping me young
alive with sublimely smoky succulence
every tomato more exquisitely tangy
every avocado more silken smooth
even alone you are more than enough for me

alas it was not to be too late
white flash of empty plate rouses me
from unrequited reverie

for while I dreamed, he schemed.

I haven't written any poetry for a long, long time. But I was inspired by my friend No Cool Story, who has heretofore been my supplier of virtual bacony goodness, and who recently announced her retirement from said virtual bacon. Thanks for the memories, NCS. (Don't worry, I still love you; you brought back my muse!)