Refrigerator Note

So you want the cradle, the dote,
the shroud, the
puppy dog to absolve your woes you are
toes massaged to your liking,
bits and berries fed to you and
your dear shivering body you are
frail, and cold,
you require a glass of water to cure the
throes, your hungers, if only people
the greatness of your wonders those
who can’t see how desperately they need
you, and all their daft misery blinds
if only they had your rock chin if only they knew
the chagrin of your life they’d
you better, and trade their
fodder to give you more wives they
too stupid you suppose but I won’t
give you
any more of me because
shaving your face of
is not my cup of tea.

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