Ode To Cheese Fries ((hot)) -

No fork nor knife approaches your domain. Only fingers, reckless, burn the eager skin. To lift a single, dripping, tangled chain is to commit a delicious, greasy sin.

Late night, you arrive in a paper boat, a Styrofoam sea, a foil-wrapped ark. The bar is loud. The lost are still afloat. You are the lantern glowing in the dark. ode to cheese fries

O golden nest of crisp and slender suns, cut from the earth’s own russet, buried light, then baptized in the furious, hissing plunge of oil that grants you armor, day-bright. No fork nor knife approaches your domain