Cookie Gods (a poem)

Otis Spunkmeyer came to the stage
Raggedy, weathered, bespectacled
He declared “we are super and pure”
He dropped dead, from the weight of his words

Mrs. Fields was the next to rise
From her seat - a folding chair with ottoman
She raged her mall skin on the crowd
She dropped dead, from the cure for her pain

Famous Amos held down the fort
He said “I’m real, I’m 3-D, I’m the man”
But his book only had one chapter, eleven
He dropped dead, from the gut of his wretch

Grandma Gebhard, she was the last to go
Her eyes were beady, her manner shaky
She was a claustrophobe from day one
She died natural, like the spit of an elf