My Last Luna Bar (with apologies to Robert Browning and Lizzie Skurnick)

That’s my last Luna Bar in my knapsack
Looking as if it were real food. I call
That bar a wonder, now: Fiber, protein,
Worked into a day’s supply of Vitamin C
“Will’t please you notice the Calcium?” I said
“Luna Bar” by design, for never knew
Strangers like you that orange-blue wrapper
The heft and satisfaction of its earnest nutrition,
But to myself they turned (since none extols
Nutz over Chocolate, quite like I)
And seemed they would ask me, if they durst
How such a love came to be, why not the Zone? So not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Friends, ‘twas not
My endorsement only, praised the Luna. Check the wrapper:
Anglea of Boulder chanced to say, “Laynie, You’ve
Brought light, hope and wonder to my life,” And “Because
Of you, I believe in miracles again. I love you, Momma.” Such stuff
Is sweet, I think, and cause enough
For calling up this spot of breakfast. I have
A stomach – how shall I say? – too soon made full
Too easily seduced; it likes whate’er
It looks on, and its looks go everywhere.
Friends, ‘twas all one! Chili’s, Too
Cinnabon, Pizza Hut personal pan pizza

At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go
Together through security, friends. Notice Starbucks, though,
Here in Sky Harbor Airport, once thought a rarity,
Which Howard Schultz built just for me!

Or, to mangle another great poet: Ten days on the road, and I'm going to make it home tonight.