Everything Is a Ruffles® Potato Chip

A potato chip
pinched between her index finger
tunneling across this
wafer of fat and air, soaked through
in rapeseed oil. Each groove hollow
as a feed trough sloshing full
of Sodium Caseinate,
Whey Protein Isolate,
luxuriant tang and
orange candy brightness—flaming
pleasure through
your neurons.

The peasant—
molars: one, yellow, jutting
eyes pinched
(up off the cheekbone,
bulged against the nose),
the terraced field (misting
his barley) prefigures
a Ruffles® potato chip
the jag of cliffs
gouged into grooves—each
a feed trough sloshing full of
seed-muck and
squelching pleasure.

The human brain prefigures
a Ruffles® potato chip,
the gray pulp canalled into
grooves sloshing full of
flaming neurons
flaming neurons
flaming neurons
For who, though?
Whose tongue will
wedge deep in the grooves of brains and
suckle indulgence—the dust of
Who will rummage through
human beings and slaver
over a brain twisting
in on itself, and pooling
rapeseed grease?

The human body prefigures
a Ruffles® potato chip
grooves canalling between legs, carving
empty warmth between thighs—
a feed trough sloshing full of
sensory neurons
flaming with

We gouge away in
our hunger for more—surface area to
smear soggy with

prefigures a Ruffles® potato chip
the first cell—dust grain of
life—slavering after surface area
and canalling out a groove
between its (therefore)

But now we've got
a Ruffles® potato chip so
groove our mountains
gouge our brains
chasm our legs
branch our cells

in two—when a Ruffles® potato chip gleams
smeared greasepleasure and
orange candy brightness from every

When not studying at Green Mountain College, Alison enjoys badgering her friends, acquaintances, and arch-nemesis Rachel with asinine questions. (For the record, her incredible boyfriend won't soak in a Jacuzzi full of coleslaw for any amount of money.) Her one-act play "Holy Bread" recently received its first staged production.

photo by Derrob Hagy-Weatherbee

photo by Derrob Hagy-Weatherbee