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With apologies to Emily
Because I could not stop for milk,
It kindly came to me.
I ordered it through Amazon,
Whole milk; sweet Tuscany.
The driver, though, he knew no haste,
No Expediter, he!
The wait: Four days, and weekend, too.
It seemed eternity.
My milk, it passed through NYC
Where traffic snarled in rings,
Slow past the fields of grazing cows
Who nodded knowingly.
Its expiration date passed, too;
And though the truck was chill,
Vile germs digested lactose sweet
And had their gruesome fill.
It paused before my house at last,
(By USPS Ground)
My gallon jug; 128 ounce
Though oddly swollen `round.
My joy is dashed! My hope denied!
Alas, milk lacks the power
To strive towards immortality:
My Tuscan milk's gone sour.
-S&J
February 2011 · Grocery and Gourmet Food