Monday, December 28, 2015

Sausage – v3

Forget the frank, the hot dog -
Give me the Fenway sausage.
Lansdowne or Yawkey,
Just give me the street, the crowds, the carts.
Sausage you shrug, you, the reader
Of this trifle, this whimsy -
What do I mean, me the storyteller?
Read on, won’t you please.

Peppers and onions
Tease the tongue,
Bun and hot mustard
Set the stage,
The scorched and blackened piece of meat
Reminds me of every one
I have eaten before.

So much memory
Of family and fun
Of ballgames, tailgates, and the carnie;
A cacophony of moments
Drip with grease.
Do you smell it too, sizzling
on the smoky hot grill?

My lips curl with a smirk
Writing these lines
As I laugh to myself
Of the pleasures of excess
And the lusty gluttony
Of eating. . . another one.

edited December 28, 2015
Sausage – v3

(editing version 2)
Edited  September 21, 2012
“Sausage – v2”
posted February 14, 2004
written May 27, 2001 8:54am

All of my poems and photographs are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss ( for usage. See all 40,460+ of my poems at Poetry Where You Live.

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