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