Oh Pistachio!

Oh pistachio, trapped in your shell. 

I look for an opening, but where I can't tell. 

The rest in the bowl can all go to hell. 

I can only imagine your taste from your smell. 

So I squeeze you so tightly, but not very well.

And you fall to the floor which dings like a bell.

 

I apply pressure grinding my teeth,

excited to see what could lie beneath.

It's getting to the point where I've tried and I've tried.

I guess, I need to go see where the nutcracker resides. 

 

I push ever so gently, to not damage your meat.

But try as I might, I suffer defeat.

So I go to the garage, to look for some tools. 

Oh why does love, make us such fools.