Not everyone here is friendly to the editor's limburger habits........................................................
BEWARE!
I have received from a friend
a very manly brick of Limburger cheese.
I say manly because women usually
don't eat cheese that buzzes
and is as old-aged as mine.
This cube of cheese has an odor
perhaps best described as that which issues
from long-unwashed underwear hems.
To eat it is to be arrested, overcome.
You cannot eat this cheese
and do anything else as a secondary activity;
your full attention is riveted to the consuming act
as though you're on a wing-walking excursion,
or shaving with an extremely sharp razor.
I gaze at this cheese
contemplating burying it in the yard
or eating more.
The cat tries to bury it
on the hard tabletop, but
I decide to eat more.
There is an edible-if-you-dare rind
around this cheese that sweats
when it is exposed to air.
I keep my Limburger in a tight jar once opened,
and I appreciate that this cheese
continues its critical mass build-up
even when refrigerated and stored thusly;
eating limburger reminds me
of other nasty things I 've done.
Afterwards, no amount of hand-washing
will remove me from the consequence of my deed,
but I can assume a thoughtful pose
with my fingers near my nose
and re-live it all.
S/ in blissful reverie.
