I am the pringle,
which I cannot afford

I tasted the pringle,
I savored it’s crunchy texture,
And salty composition

I meditated on the pringle, and on my life in general

Is this all there is to life?
Has anything been gained?
Has anything been restored?

Pringles bake at around 450 F
What does that mean?

Do they feel me, 
Cry?
Do they feel me, 
Sigh?
Do they feel anything at all?

A can of pringles rolls and falls off the table
The sound frightens you, and you wonder,
Will this madness ever end?

By Kirsten Lachance