The Gal Cajoles Her Guy to Ingest a Vegetable
Were you a rabbit, you’d inhabit gardens, chomp a carrot,
live broccoli or celery — whatever — wouldn’t spare it.
You would be ever hungry, never fussy. Turnip, pea,
zucchini, squash, you’d keenly nosh them all with utter glee.
A bunch of mice would not think twice of munching week-old lettuce.
They’d not be picky. “Things you call icky,” they’d say, “have always fed us.”
Decayed bok choy would give them joy, but never soybeans, mind!
They’d gorge on sorrel, and have no quarrel with tossed-out pumpkin rind.
But you, my dear, have a foolish fear of veggies of all sorts.
Oh no, I don’t, I simply won’t eat anything that sports
a leaf or root or stem or fruit or seed or flower or ... wait!
What’s on my dish next to the fish? What is that on my plate?
I hope it’s not a veggie! Got to go now. See you later.
Hold on, my sweet. Don’t leave your seat! This object is a tater.
It’s topped with butter. Oh, don’t shudder. Eat it! Please, don’t go!
(He took a bite. They had a night of bliss. How did she know?)
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