hot cup The tuna fish mix we made yesterday winked at me from the fridge. It whispered, Love, breakfast? I replied with the last piece of cracked wheat toast, onion, and sweet relish. Pray, not just fish from a can, this was mayo, celery, artichoke hearts, and a sprig of parsley. Indeed, if all sandwiches were this power-packed, gods would fall, day-old vendors would sprout on city street corners shouting, Skip yer good-fer-nuttin’ cawfee! Gitchyer chicken-of-the-sea mid-morning IED! Cats would faint. And a wafting like a wall would smack the eyes of foreigners stumbling off a plane at JFK, coughing… -James Dewey
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