Empty Fridge Mockery

Food, oh, food,
where have you gone?
In my belly?
To the trash?

Chilly reception

as I open the door,
light flickers on,
exposing bare racks.

The grumble of my

stomach and the insistence
of my brain that I eat.
Eat, damn you, eat!

There’s milk,

there’s water,
there’s three pieces of bacon,
there’s a hot dog.

Lots of eggs though,

so many eggs. I could
make omelets or eggs
over-well. Or an egg sandwich.

Half used onion could have

potential, there’s mayo,
there’s some bread,
maybe the fridge isn’t so barren.

Old Mother Hubbard

has raided my cupboard
and my fridge is really bare.

Wait, I found salsa verde,

never mind.  Joke's on you fridge,
joke's on you.