A Crazy, Mixed Up Solar System of Hunger

A Crazy, Mixed Up Solar System of Hunger

What would it be like to munch on the moon?
I’ve studied it well. I think it’s eggshells.

But suppose I flew further; I’d take my harpoon,
And I’d sample the tastes of a chunk of our space.

What would it be like to snack on old Neptune?
I bet that bluish-green ball is flavored with meatballs.

Or should I choose lunch on Mars during noon?
Would its red-hued dirt taste just like dessert?

What would it be like to dine on Mercury’s dunes?
Like speckles of chocolate in raw cookie dough?

Do you think I could scoop Saturn’s rings with a spoon?
I heartily suppose they’re like rainbowed jello.

And without any doubt far-off Pluto would soon
Be the spot that I’d dine on with its taste of pecan.

Jupiter I’d turn into soup and use tablespoons
To lap up its liquid of tomatoes and 'taters.

Then Venus in a whiplash, without breath or I’d swoon.
Especially when I ate from its barbecued turnips.

Uranus' wrinkles look just like black prunes,
So I’m sure when I test it, I’ll eat just a bit.

Then back to Earth for plates full of macaroons
That my mom just baked and waits for me to take.

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P.S. When I wrote this, Pluto was a planet. Alas, now it has been demoted to a planetoid, deemed just an oversized ball-shaped asteroid. Poor Pluto.

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