At the start of every day
I’m going to be a vegetarian.
But then one sweaty Sunday
A hotel buffet calls,
Rows of striped bacon, fluffy eggs
And spongey sausages which flutter
Down my gullet…
I saunter up for a third helping
Delights piled high on the plate,
A leaning tower of meaty Pisa.
Let’s stuff ourselves to the brim
More so now than we’ve ever done
Because it’s free of course,
Gotta get that dollar’s worth
Even though the bacon fat
Will choke our hearts.
Thirteen glasses of orange juice
And a bucket of coffee later
I’m nauseatingly full.
With a ketchup-stained mouth
And greasy fingers
I swear not to do it again
Hotel buffets are a blessing and a curse
For those with never-ending stomachs.