Poem:The Magic Cocktail Onion

The Magic Cocktail Onion

I tell you, one of the onions,
small little things that they are,
which is here preserved, one
of these little cocktail onions
is a magic cocktail onion, with
properties both rare and desirable,
not only in terms of the medicinal
benefits it bestows, but in terms
of what it grants the one who
ingests it, for only a nickle
each, you may try your luck,
eat one of these little onions
and see if it you find yourself
restored, emboldened, empowered,
impressively coiffed, well-oiled
and raring to go, with pep
in your step and a special
something even the French
have never quite named,
maybe a bit of the second
sight, too, told you it is
a magic cocktail onion,
not merely a health
tonic in form of pickled
vegetation, but magic,
that force that bends
or even breaks rules
of reality, what might
be termed a miracle,
yes, sir, it is only a nickle
to try, though you know

out of all these onions

it will only be one
that is magic, ah,
yes, all of you may try
an onion, no way to know
which is the right one
till you've eaten that magic
cocktail onion, tasted
the flavor of the uncanny,
the impossible, you'll
know, if you get it,

only a few left now,
odds going up that it will
be here, who will find
it, maybe you sir,
what, no one found it?
How can that be
when the jar is empty
now?  I know, it must
be that the magic cocktail
onion, sensing danger
vanished, you can never
trust magic, can you..
Certainly nothing I could
do about it, or have expected,
just poor luck for all of us.