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?

Goodbye!!

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