Why must there be all this snow on the ground when I've unearthed my
jelly shoes from the clutches of my closet and want nothing more than to trot
down the street to the pie shop in them?
Why must there be such a chubby stack of semiotics essays that I have to read when
all I want to do is embroider Kanye West quotes on pillows and
listen to my new Saintseneca record?
Why am I still not Beyonce, even though I wish for it every time
I blow out my scented candles before bed?
As a wise Joy the Baker once said, I don't have all the answers. But I do have all the soup.
All the tender love and nostalgia of Campbell's creamy tomato
got married to the hunky heartiness of winter's favorite squash.
They're still going through the honeymoon phase,
and I am reaping all the benefits.
This soup is thick and humble, with a slight kick from the ginger.