Once I cooked in a greasy roadside spoon
just like the one off this highway – and one day
during a lunch rush I swiped with my knife
at a passing fly and cut it’s head clean off,
right through where a neck should be. So stunned I was
at realizing a long running dream
that without thinking I went back to slicing
a toasted western into triangles.
Where were you that day? What did you have for lunch?
I apologize if it was you
who got that order – so incisive a cut,
so well dressed with pickle and oily fries,
such a quick death hiding in the bread’s darkness.
Sorry you tasted such greatness and never knew.