By Paula Bender
Ever since I left South Jersey
In the late ’70s,
My craving for a decent Philly cheesesteak
Has gone unsated.
Toasty hoagie roll,
Transparently thinly sliced ribeye,
Piled high with fried onions and peppers.
To which one would say Whiz or
(Of course) provolone.
Your mouth really can’t go home again.
The memories of my little 12-year-old hands
Holding a hoagie roll overflowing with
Philly cheesesteak has never been repeated
By the so many try hards and copy cats
And food trucks and popups that
I’ve deigned to try.
Sometimes, you just have to recreate that
Share the love and
Create a longing within someone
Poem #8 Flavor, Eulogy, Enumeration