Ballpark Food

by Todd Pheifer

What’s wrong with these vendors
Loudly hawking their wares?
An arm and a leg for a beer,
And nobody cares!

Of course I can hold off,
But my kids are entranced
With the cotton candy man
Weaving sugary romance.

He comes down the row,
Waving food at eye level.
Away from us, man!
Your food is the devil!

We’ve brought our own, thanks,
Smuggled in Mom’s big pack,
Peanuts and popcorn
And goodies for snacks.

So enjoy the ballpark
And the shifting strike zone,
But if you want to eat there,
Better take out a loan.

Posted 9/28/07 


Published in Ballparks, Food, Pure doggerel | Link to this poem | No Comments

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