An Elegy to The Moldy Jar of Capers We Bought From Loblaws

Gone are the days when goods, preserves,
of infinite variety,
yon grocer, or proprieter,
ably commanded, behind cash.

Goons in the present, by contrast,
(oh! the free reign allowed!)
yield to no man, and gaiely rip
and tear, and open all they can.

Green mold forms where once was pristine,
others, blind, suspecting nothing,
(yes, completely fooled) purchase
a lot more than they bargained.


  1. Goya is the brand of capers. I admit that’s kind of bizarre, but for some reason seeing it printed on the jar inspired the whole poem. I should probably… explain that more. Maybe!

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