Ode to the Jar of Pickles I failed to open one Sunday Evening

Oh, pickles in a jar,
How naughty you are,
Flaunting crocodilian skin
In your glass aquarium.
This visibility, but impregnability
Has the capability of doing me in.
Can’t you see how perfectly
Your crisp bitterness was meant,
Gooey cheese pasta, to compliment?
While your unyielding lid I strived to defeat
My pasta sat impatiently losing heat.
You mock me with a dinner, thus incomplete.
Pickles, you are too cruel.