I get my endorphins from cheese.
The udder gooeyness,
the melty ecstasy,
the sheer, unbridled joy of it … cheese.
I get my endorphins from cheese.
The second the buttery
drug is dragged across my tongue,
pupils dilate and
I’m filled with a sharp,
unpasteurized rapture .
I ask Aristaeus to forgive
my wanton gluttony
and udder disregard of
this mortally mortified body-
itself becoming a parcel of pastey,
cheesey curds.
I GET my endorphins from cheese.
No longer the slave
of a Kenmore plug-in,
and the constant threat
of carpal tunnel from
repetitive motion.
But the lifting of briny brie is a gentle exercise,
a delicate motion,
a natural thing.
I get my endorphins from cheese yo.
It makes me crapulous,
noxious and lazy with
goosebump shivers and
crazy-assed dreams.
Yo momma’s candidum penicillin.
Fuck chicken soup.
I float away on udder
ammoniated gasses and
cottage cheese clouds.
Tongue-tied to the
bloomy rind of camembert
and sharp cheddar chidings.
I get my endorphins from cheeeeese
and the body within the rind.
For beauty is far deeper
than what the eye beholds.
There is more to it than mold.
-D.Klein 3/3/13
