A Food Group Laments

Lowly carb, the peasant of foods,

maligned by every diet book around,

I lie on the plate pasty and eschewed,

as praises for veg and protein abound.

While I am modest, homey comfort fare,

guys at the processing plant sap my fiber,

and now the slim misses pass me sans a care,

for fish, greens and organic cauliflower.

All I've tried to do without flourish is provide

good nourishment for pennies on the dollar,

and for my pains they've sent me down the slide

to the bowels of the food pyramid cellar.

Why I am the object of such foody hate?

After all, I did not supersize myself,

or insist I be bathed in hot transfat,

or altered to extend my life on shelf.

I pray for the day I am rehabilitated

like my friend the egg who was ostracized

for years because he was cholesterol-tainted,

now back from the gulag, by Rachel Ray lionized.

If your hips are broad, get to the Bow-Flex, gyrate,

Your abdomen protrudes? Do some crunches!

Stop blaming the humble carbohydrate

for those gargantuan guilty lunches.