My mom keeps the fridge

stocked with so many things,

like Sunny D and milk,

and spicy chicken wings.


Eggs and bread and butter,

bottled water, too.

But in the crisper drawer,

I do what I gotta do.


The food I seek out most,

the story I will tell,

Is how I make my sandwich,

and make it all so well.


There’s mayo, bacon, turkey,

pepperoni and cheese,

mustard, pickles, caviar,

and a plain cream cheese.


There’s onions and there’s olives,

no garlic left behind;

There’s ham and tomatoes,

and peppers so fine.


there’s spinach and there’s

mushrooms, peanut butter, chocolate ants,

and it all goes into a croissant just like

I live in France.


That night after eating, my stomach

cries and groans,

downed ten of the Peptos,

and Tums between my moans.



4 thoughts on “Sandwich

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