mr pickle.

in our fridge sits a jar.
in that jar sits a pickle.
a lonesome pickle, it is.
the lonesome pickle sits in a barely there tub of pickle juice.
this has been bugging me, you see.
everytime i open the damn door,
there it sits.
sitting there,
for my eyes to see.
"look at me, look at me," it silently screams.
one is the loneliest number, so it seems.
it looks like a green turd sitting in a jar...
sitting in our fridge.