“Buttered Rigatoni”

Being my friend is often compared to as a chore.
But you have honored me,
comparing me to a pile of buttered rigatoni.
I can only aspire to be so bad for your health,
but still it makes me happy knowing
that my cream sauce has not turned—
and my noodles have not clumped—
and best of all,
that there is still plenty of me left
in your little white dish.

narrative poem written on 03-10-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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