we love
bacon around here,
the woman
says, as you walk
around her house
giving her an estimate
to paint
and wallpaper.
my kids love
bacon, I love
bacon, my husband
loves bacon.
I do too, you tell
her, measuring
the wall
behind the stove
where bacon
sizzles in a deep
black pan. I don't
believe all that
medical information
about clogging up
your arteries, she
says. nonsense.
we are fit as fiddles
around here.
I could wrap
dog treats in bacon
and my kids would
eat them,
she says, laughing,
then taking
a fork and flipping
over the crackling
strips of bacon.
yup, we sure do
like bacon
around here. I bet
we eat two
pounds a week.
maybe
when you come to
do the work,
i'll make you
a bacon sandwich.
that would be
wonderful you tell
her, rubbing
your greasy hands
together. I can hardly
wait.
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