Sausage - v3

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

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/12/sausage-v3.html

(editing version 2)

Edited September 21, 2012

“Sausage – v2”

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/09/sausage-v2.html

posted February 14, 2004

written May 27, 2001 8:54am

Sausage

http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/02/sausage.html

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, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021. All rights reserved. Contact me at <a href="mailto:raymondafoss@gmail.com">Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com)</a> for usage. See all 53k+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.

America, Concord NH, Family, memories, mustard seed, New Hampshire, poetry, Poetry Where You Live, Raymond A. Foss, senses, smells, Writing Poetry, Red Sox, Yawkey Way, Landsdowne Street, Boston, Fenway Park,

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