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Tomato, the Busy Vegetable


Theyíre still arguing about me.

Am I fruit or vegetable?† donít mix me up.

I donít have time for this nonsense, Iím being consumed.

Call me whatever, the customer must be satisfied.

Iím red, call me red, ripe with juicy freshness.

Call me juicy, ready to be sliced into a nice bed of Romaine.

Or give me to Aunt Rose, sheíll turn me into a nice spicy sauce

Good enough to make love to that sexy linguine

or eggplant, the meat no longer attracts me.

Iím no longer comfortable with meat, people.

Finally, Iím out of the closet but, donít call me gay.

I just donít like meat anymore, period.

Until you decide what I am, let me stew until you do.

You can also sun me as a tasty morsel with a shriveled red tan.

Just donít put me in that brine.

I refuse to be pickled.


††††† Richard Savadsky

Performance Poets Associationģ


What did you expect?

A round vegetable like iceberg lettuce?

Thatís not me.

Iím a lean, mean crisp machine.

Not bloated with water like iceberg.

You know when youíre eating me.

When you chomp on me, Iím never quiet.

Iím the backbone stalk of the vegetable world and donít you forget it.

I give crunch to your tuna fish salad.

Youíll always bite me in moist stuffings.

You can always chomp on me in the raw.

Iím the perfect shape to scoop your favorite dip.

Wherever I am, you canít miss me.

The ends of my stalks are sort of flowery.

If you stupidly forgot to buy your girlfriend flowers.

Use me as a last resort, give me to her,

††††† tell her Iím the flowery gift of mankind.

Then she can eat it, look at it, cook it or stuff it.

Or, she can throw it at you and end your relationship.

Flowers donít give you these choices.


Richard Savadsky

Formalist poet, painter, retired aerospace engineer

Rolling My Wheelchair Forward


I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward


Hoping for the ms cure

Just get offered band-aids but no cure

Can inject myself every other day

to reduce the chance of flare-ups

Sounds like a poor trade-off for injections


I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward


Thinking of jogging 10 years ago

I completed a 10k jog

Playing tennis at a tennis court

Relaxing and drinking Heineken beer


I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward


I once had a cane then a walker

Could walk up and down stairs holding the banister

Now I use curb cuts to wheel across the street alone

But I can go anywhere on Island buses for wheelchairs


I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward


Winston limo picked me and wheelchair up, took us to LaGuardia

Delta flew me to Tampa, used their wheelchair for narrow aisles

Those lovely flight attendants and me had a great time

Too bad I couldnít get only one to keep


I just keep rolling my wheelchair forward


Richard Savadsky

(Imagine youíre a higher order math function trying to reach your mathematical limit, the asymptote)




The asymptote is in sight, the distance is known

When I get there the prize will be mine to own


On the first day of travel, I cut the distance in half

It wonít be long until I toast success with a carafe


The second day revelas my attempt is short

The distance Iíve covered is half what the first day brought


With the third day, the pattern appears set

Despite my best effort, the third dayís result is half the seconds dayís yet


Itís clear to me now, I canít change the laws of math no way

Itís the asymptote, I canít reach it ins pite of my say


But my math DNA still presses me on to seek my precious to discover

If never the asymptote to touch in this world, Iíll be the rejected lover


The asymptote, they tell me even if Iím in the vicinity

My love will consummate only when I can touch infinity


Richard Savadsky

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