Pressure Off The Rose Poem by James McLain

Rims are not rims,
lids are as different as are the cans, is
to the jar we stew our potatoes in.
The process is messy at times the first
time you peal the fruit, there is panic.
Eyes some time sprout, before it is time,
the grocer is our next best friend, is she?
Pressure cooks every thing faster, some
times to fast, can you hear, that whistle?
The finger is often burned, checking the
contents,
check the seal often, to make sure it's wet.
When the rim is bent or warped, start the
process over again, ageing some times helps.