Peas and Carrots

//

“Quit it, would you?”

Her Round Highness says,

sweet inside their plastic bag.

“I cannot help it,”

says he to her,

nudges back with eight corners.

She calls him “Square,”

and doesn’t know,

how the fire inside his belly grows.

How fine and fair

she thinks she is,

but of their duo the fame is his.

Green and orange,

they’re frozen there,

the easiest of quick dinner fares.

Both soon to meet

their boiled fate,

and, in the meantime, how they hate.