The road became slick and greasy like a sausage as the rain continued to fall.
Back in America, we sat in the diner
and watched the chef cast a spell over the
ketchup as it danced over the sausages before
settling on that slick surface.
It sat there, teasing my taste levels, testing my resolve.
I picked it up and placed the end between my teeth,
it smelled heavenly.
I took the first tender bite and felt that meaty
warmth runs down my throat.
The word sage can be found within the word sausage
just like sage is a spice found within a sausage.
Sage is what makes the sausage, its spicy
enigma exploding in my mouth.
If you think this is an attempt to humour you are wrong my friend
As the clouds rumble across the dark sky,
the slick and greasy surface of the earth’s axle
allows it to turn , like the sausage on my plate.