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Poetry in the Oven.. Day Three

Two Poems

By Michael ButorovichPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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.POETRY IN THE OVEN.

Answer phones,

Lay the labels,

Make the pies,

Roll the slice,

Dress the crust,

Box 'em up.

Pizza boy make

Your funds;

Get home, smoke

Your bud;

With a day

Off have some

Real fun.

We don't have

Much except

Ourselves and

The time we get

To run.

Get that dough

Off of dough,

Cheddar out

Of cheddar,

Paper into paper.

Grab life,

Make love,

Write letters,

Make breadsticks

Better.

..

.DAY THREE.

I though it was a frail

Ass old man by the way

He spoke over the

Phone.

"I only live down

The street, I'll

Be there in 15 minutes"

Amoe noticed the ticket.

"Oh shit, you took

Drunk ass Corey's call

For the first time?"

"Oh, he's drunk"

"Yeah! you can't hear it

In his voice?

He tries to order a

Pizza and not pay for it"

There was a warning

Under the notes

Saying that as well.

He showed up an hour

An a half later.

I was at the register

To assist him.

I gave the total.

"I was told it would be $21"

He looked to the back and

Saw my co-worker

"Go get your buddy" he pointed

And tried to shout but very low

"Hey, buddy!"

I called him over to deal with

Drunk ass Corey and took over

Making the pizzas.

That won't be my last

Encounter with him I'm sure.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Michael Butorovich

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