Kurt Vonnegut, 1922-2007

Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.
(Billy Pilgrim, Slaughterhouse 5)

The Fruitcake Song: Does anyone actually eat this stuff?

The Sounds of Fruitcake (Sung to The Sounds of Silence)

Hello fruitcake my old chum
Glad to smell you reek of rum
Because a chunk I downed while weeping
Gave me gas when I was sleeping
And the chewy fruit that planted in my teeth
Still remains
Within the sound of eating

In restless dreams I ate alone
Narrow kitchens bare of bone
‘Neath my ribs I felt a cramp
I touched my cheeks and they were damp
When my eyes were flashed by the stab of a Ginsu knife
That cut the strife
And touched the edge of fruitcake

And in the crazy cake I saw
Ten thousand colors maybe more
Chunks of chewy chopped dried cherries
Chunks of chewy dried blueberries
Chunks of strange currants that I would never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of eating

“Fool” said I “You do not want
Hunger like a childish taunt
Hear my words that I might lead you
Take my fruits that I might feed you”
But my words like Christmas trinkets fell
And shattered
In the bleats of snoring

And then I bowed and prayed
To the fruitcake god I’d made
And the dream burped out its warning
In the stench that stayed ‘til morning
And someone said “The words of the fruitcakes are written on the tummy walls
And bathroom stalls"
And belch’d in the sounds of eating

--By Richard Cooper, with sheepish apologies to Paul and Art.