A Personal Eulogy
the god of grilled cheese
is dead. memories melt
between fat Texas Toasts,
butter-drunk and sacred.
I never inked my heart
with the cheese-
and-crossbones logo
for the eternal discount
(may that skin rest
forever) but I brought
everyone:
Nadia
you leave a Google review–
five stars, five shooting
stars
Elly
first date– never witnessed
a vegetarian so leery
peering at the Purple Parma,
the eggplant sandwich
you picked apart
with fork and knife.
the menu was on the back
of a vinyl cover, our greasy
hands all over it
Seth
speak louder I’m chewing
the juicy braised pulled
beef brisket of my Cleveland
Cheese Steak and the bar
is roaring with the Cavaliers
you soft-spoken tennis star!
Alec and Lil
Alec gets The Dude Abides,
the one with mozzarella sticks
and meatballs. I get The Spinach Pie
and it is God. Our drive home
is holy. I anoint Lilly
a new name: Lilac
Buckmeister. Three miraculous
license plates in succession
as we fly Ohio 21,
windows down: BANANAS.
MANGO 2. 0RANG33.
Tony
home for Christmas–
a two-hour wait.
we left, but
your patience
was a gift
I never
returned
Mom
no salt, please? no butter?
each request a small
betrayal of
institutional morals
Lee
having lived in Japan
the past nine years
eating KFC each
Christmas in the shadow of
a Colonel Sanders mall statue
this winter you want
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner:
crispy battered chicken,
sweet corn puree, garlic
sauteed spinach, mashed
roasted garlic & chive
potatoes, cheddar.
Whole.
P.M.
why I did not kiss you under
cosmic fireworks of the car
wash: we both had
cod breath, tartar after
slaying our footlong
Lake Erie Monster
Wayne
left my mom’s Focus
in your lot, drunk
on catching up,
the Mighty Macaroni,
and Christmas
Ales– heaven until
I forgot half
my sandwich
at the table racing
to meet Meg
at the racino.
she had the hotel
all night but I was
playing with horse
money.
Jack
quiet conversations
over a deep-fried
Monte Cristo. did
you know we could
baptize any sandwich
in oil? our time is short.
let’s order everything.
Jan
despite the efforts
of the chef
not a single thing
you could eat
but for me, that’s fine
Paige V.
I brought a Wet Hot
Buffalo Chicken
to your home
and never left.
this, after I lived
a year in my car
Justin
the last time I eat my favorite
creation, my last supper:
The Cowabunga: real cheese
pizza rolls deep fried until extra
crispy and atomic, hot, rich basil
marinara, basil pesto, herb
cream cheese, provolone,
and romano– the green
riffing, a grass dream
Sara
you hated every sandwich
but you tried to like
the menu. we loved
each other. after all
these years
let me
explain
the burnt
edges:
some things are better
overdone than
never done at all
INSTANT NOODLES 