I’m kinda like this kid when it comes to Peeps. I’ve loved ’em since waaaaaayyyy back when they only came in yellow and only in the chick shape. And I love them to this day, when you can get them in the bunny shape and Halloween shapes and Christmas shapes and every color of the rainbow and even in chocolate-dipped and chocolate mousse-flavored versions.
I’m not alone in my Peep passion. The mini marshmallow marvels are more popular than ever in their 60th year of existence, and the company that hatches them, Just Born, is enjoying record profits. I know that there are some people whose enthusiasm for Peeps rests solely on their scientific value. I am also acutely aware that there exist certain weirdos who (shudder) DON’T LIKE PEEPS.
But I’m okay with that. Not everyone can share my undying affection for this über-sweet confection. As long as you refrain from denigrating them in my presence and from shooting them with a rifle, we’ll get along just fine. Even better, if you join me in professing an eternal love for them, I’ll consider you one of my dearest peeps.
I’ve a more sweet than bitter confession
To reveal (there’s no point in suppression):
I’ve a love that runs deep
For most everything Peep –
I guess you could call it obsession.
Indulgence I’ve often forsworn of them,
Pledging not to partake in Peep porn and then
Around will come Easter
And this fevered feaster
Finds that with sweet desire I’m Just Born again.
©2013 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz
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