I was going to stop, but now I can't seem to. More poems this week from Kevin Young's bright and irresistible collection, The Hungry Ear: Poems of Food & Drink. [And Kevin, not that you will ever find my blog, but just in case, if there are copyright issues with this small bit of morseling I am apportioning, please let me know and I will cease and desist.]
from Letters to Wendy's
Joe Wenderoth
August 19, 1996
Today I was thinking that it might be nice to be able, in
one's last days, to move into a Wendy's. Perhaps a Wendy's
life support system could even be created and given a
Wendy's slant; liquid fries, for instance, and burgers and
Frosties continually dripped into one's vegetable dream
locus. It would intensify the visits of the well, too, to see
that such care is taken for their destiny.
February 14, 1997
It has taken me this long to confess that I am not a fan of
the salad bar. That is, to openly confess it. Surely my silence
on the matter has created an impression already. I suppose
I've been ashamed to speak. I have this sense that in
speaking I will be led to something embarrassing, something
at odds with the uniquely liberal persona I prance about in.
This, though, this letter is a good first step.
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