Dirty Food

 

I started the noise

But I was so confused,

It all had to do

With my wife and her food.

 

It was quite similar

To early and late

Like when a man gets home

And when his wife wakes.

 

You must read my poem

About early and late

And see the point there

That I tried to make.

 

But back to the matter

That I started with,

I somehow felt

I had to make that shift.

 

I like my wife’s food

That is a true fact,

If you have tasted her cuisine

You will agree with that.

Out of the clear

I said to her one day,

“No more of your dirty food,

I am not going that way.”

 

She got real vex

And asked, “What did you say?”

I repeated it again

And then walked away.

 

Do not stop reading

Thinking I am insane,

Give me a chance

And let me explain.

 

It is what we say

That doesn’t make sense,

So hear me out, please,

Before you take offense.

When I finished eating

I rest the plate in the sink

And then went to the fridge

For something to drink.

 

Well, I had just sat down

To enjoy the drink

When the wife shouted out,

“Wash the dirty plate in the sink!”

 

I shouted back,

“So you gave me dirty food?”

And she got blue, blue vex

And said I was rude.

 

The plate was only dirty

On account of the food,

But when I told her that

It sure wasn’t cool.

We’ve come to an understanding

It is, “Wash the plate in the sink,”

But next time before you shout back

Take a little time to think.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019