A modern poem of sorts. Dedicated to Dean.

~o~

You assault my senses with your very betrayal
Of the French’s lack of good taste
You who have been called
The King of Cheeses.
What paltry kingdom it is you hold?
Bold perhaps
If but for the sake of being bold.

I have known many in your kingdom:
From serfs to queens
And stableboys and courtesans.
You are no King, rather
An emperor, and your rind are your new clothes.

For cheese, great among most food
Is best known alone.
That you can not stand
Without the crutches of fruit or sweets
Betrays your very weakness.

Thus, flee from me!
You salty, crusty messenger
Of memories of unspeakable bodily fluids
(Even by the standards
of today’s civil discourse.)
And peddle your pretense elsewhere!
The money is well spent on the lesson
To never welcome you into my home again.

~o~