Pasta Poem

Pasta Poem

I’m having PASTA withdrawal, here!

I have a Casarecce condition
an epoch Elbow gripe.
I am a Gemelli guerilla
married to Tommy Tortellini
who happens to be in a numb Noodle narcosis.
I live in petrified Penne poverty.
My revolver is stuck in a Rigatoni riddle
My bullets are ricocheting in a pool of ricotta
swearing in Shell shock.
You are playing with a vile villainess
wandering wired
without any Ziti— zip
and now you dare tell me
we have no Linguini, no Spaghetti, and no meat for the sauce?


Talk story

Leave one comment for Pasta Poem

This website uses cookies to offer you a better browsing experience. By browsing this website, you agree to its use of cookies.