I hate mouth noises–
the rhythmic chomping, mashing,
cracking and moisturizing.
I hate the smushing sound of the
searching like a rescue team
for lost morsels pressed between
molar and cheek, incisor and canine.
I hate soggy vegetables–
all limp and liquid filled,
cells bursting and spreading–
the result of neglect.
I really hate a well-done steak–
the ceaseless attempts to break down
fibers, the muscles in the jaw
tightening, cramping, locking.
Yes, I loathe the brain that shrinks from
knowledge; the pitiful mind with no
sense of wonder.
I love to hate that–
Love to roll my eyes at it,
Love to smirk incredulously,
Love to turn my back and walk away.
This is just a little poem I wrote years ago and stumbled on recently in my clutter clearing. It was sitting in a folder in my closet hating life, so I figured I’d give it a purpose. I still hate mouth noises. Ironically, I’m the very worst person to be in a room with if I am chewing a piece of gum. Because of it, I ‘ve incited enough anger, aggression and looks of disbelief for a lifetime. If ya’ll ever discover I’ve been murdered, rest assured that my gum chewing was the cause and that I probably deserved it. Let that bring you peace. I now ask my friends to not allow me to chew gum in public. That Horrible Gum Chewing Girl is not a title I’ve aspire to achieve in life.