“We’re used to three-layer cake from you…and you brought us a pop-tart.”
“Oh, no…it’s at least toaster struedel.”
Poetry seems to work best, for me, when I am invested enough to feel it and objective enough to laugh at it. But they were not wrong, and I must not write pop-tarts.
Unless of course I write some sort of poem about pastry, which maybe I will do now.
On the subject of food, someone had McDonald’s in class last night. I haven’t had fast food in a very long while and suddenly a Big Mac became, to my opinionated tummy, the most important thing in the world. So I grabbed one on the way home, and couldn’t eat it all. Sometimes the memory of a thing is better than the thing itself. (Except when it comes to French fries. Fries are never not great.)
On the subject of…things that are not food, but equally necessary to (my) life, I am in love with a song. Maybe you will be too.