ALLEGORY Poem: Cheesy Boring, by Richard Chiochios

The cook passed the food.
Like all schools, she keeps
secret agendas, hiding
green among the masses,
fooling perceptions,
creating, forcing,
new appetites, cravings, desires.

Juices are forced inside
boiled or steamed.
Textures become one
in death. No life.
No life present.

I wonder how wind would taste,
like, if it were infused with food.
Or water rising up from dirt
through roots, carrying eternities
of events:
Memories of sky adventures,
Torrential change,
Acceptance,
Rebirth.

Why can’t I taste that?

We take each–falsely enflavor–a cost of identity,
and mix them together to create something that bursts
common experience.

Richard S. Chiochios
3/14/17
Draft I