My flatmate, Christine, went on holidays, leaving behind—Temptation.
Dear Christine:
Each time I opened the refrigerator door
the cream jar whispered, “More! More!”
It screamed and yelled and beckoned me,
my hand moved toward it steadily.
No matter how I steeled my mind
it seemed there was nothing else in the fridge to find,
that enticed me in that special way,
Carrots and spinach had nothing to say.
“Hey, Sweetie,” Creamy smoothly said,
“You can spread me on a slice of bread.”
Then just to be sure it was still okay,
I lifted its lid and heard it say,
“Honey you want some fun?
Just slide me down your eager tongue.”
Suddenly one day it happened,
my fingers touched it and my brain went snappin’
“I must,” I cried, “taste as well as peek
and of jam and cream reek for a week,”
So, this little note is just to say
that I ate it all up yesterday,
It’s for your good, please don’t scoff,
I couldn’t let it just go off.
I only had your welfare in mind,
So, to eat your cream was really kind,
Shirking my duty would have been too mean
not to mention quite obscene,
A fridge full of green and mouldy cream
would have made you just throw up and scream.
Now that you’re home and back in the fold,
a fresh jar I’ll buy–all free of mould.
Love, Barbara, April 22, 1998
