Culture Stew

Riffing on comments about the fantastic flavor flourishing in the Funk Zone.

I remember you

Like it was yesterday –

A pot of culture stew

Just bubbling away.

Manufactured style,

Cocooned creativity,

Those marooned-awhile

Tourists parking for free

Off the beaten path

But right near the action –

You needed a bath

Before forming your faction.

Once the spices simmered

And spread your aroma,

The umami splintered,

Caught melanoma.

Dormant while the stew was

Guzzled by the masses,

It ate up Because

And at Why took passes.

So the stew began

It’s metamorphosis.

Now only you can,

Ensure the flavor is bliss.


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