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by Charles Carreon
In the age
of the salad bar,
There were no real men
Or women, because canned garbanzos and
Plastic cutlery
Made identity irrelevant.
In the age of bottled fruit juice coolers
And yogurt bars,
There arose titanic palaces
Crammed with ambrosia,
Ornamented with water fountains,
And fragrant with a rich
Dairy-fruit scent
In the age of chocolate
Covered marshmallow cookies,
Great migrations were triggered
That in turn spawned
Cultural intermixtures
The repercussions of which
Are not yet fully understood.
In the sober era of canned pineapple,
As we all know,
Great solemnity prevails,
As we await the return
Of our children, decked with garlands,
Wearing saturnalian smiles,
From the place the heroes took them
Long ago.
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