A guacamole making contest goes wrong.
|Roma tomatoes rose up in revolt;
one jalapeño coughed then cleared his throat.
Though cored and finely diced, he had enough;
cilantro leaves’ leaving sure was abrupt.
Some sea salt, though scattered, gathered itself;
one red round onion did nothing but scoff.
Lots of ground cumin made faces all right;
lime juice and lemon contended the tide.
Then when astir they raised voices in chant:
Want guacamole? Well, we say you can’t!
Most avocados were bothered by pits;
all the contestants were flipping their lids.
This was a contest that did not go smooth…
come Butterfinger, Clark Bar, Baby Ruth.
Writer’s Cramp Winner