Garlic Bread, a poem

 

 


Baugettes, Fire Island Rustic Bakeshop, Anchorage. [TWCarns Photo]

Garlic Bread

Streamlined torpedo.
Exterior, a hard brittle crust,
but it’s a sham.
At your core,
you are soft and yielding.

 
Indulgent tang
of garlic minced in butter.
My lips are slick
with guilty pleasure.

 

Did your ancestors
come through Ellis Island?
Did they lose
the French surname Pain,
to help you fit in
with this hodgepodge
of western food?

 

I see your great grandfather
strapped to the back of a bicycle
being pedaled up
the steep cobbled streets
of Montmartre

 
Did he spend time
in a sidewalk café,
a third at the table
with Hemingway and Joyce
sharing a bottle of Bordeaux?

 
Would he look
on his Americanized descendant
with the disdain
of a Parisian waiter?

Paul Winkel
Anchorage, March 29, 2014

Paris Photography  3
Streets of MontMarte in Paris,, ephotozine.com picture.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in 2014, Food journeys and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s