I think he's taking food emergencies too far
He said he found a hot dog in Vegas
Its flavor is something that'll save us
She's stuffing the sausages with inedible snails
She got the recipe from a book of tall tales
I don't think she'll get the nerve to serve them
Everybody she knows doesn't deserve them
Translator's Note: This is Dima's commentary on German food. I don't think he's referring to his owners who like mustard and sausage. Perhaps German food in this poem is a metaphor for awkward social encounters.
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