Maggot Moo

Dear Maggot Moo,

I guess it's too late to live on a farm
When you tend to see too much harm:

If you are what you eat
You might not be made of meat
In this case, disgrace: cream-of-wheat
So, when does the churning turn to butter?
Oops, when did the 'thick golden cream' turn to 'thin whey water'? (Apologies, NPvWL)

Jeez Louise, it's all cheese

No one cares a soggy sod 
About the existential cod
Or that personal Rosetta Stone
But, seasoned water goes a-way to staunch the solitary moan.


(P. S. Don't read this letter; Wallace said it so much better.)
(P.P.S. Need better water for the stone soup.)
(P.P.P.S. And a farm.)

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