#4, Please

Wed, 08/05/2015 - 04:33 -- eval


San Francisco
United States


Paper crinkles as I reach into the bag.
With precision I grip and lift.
Gently I lay my prize on the table before me.


Yellow, waxy paper stares into my eyes.
Advertising riddles the package,
a semi-pro of its kind.
$2.50 – What a steal!


Gently poke the side.
A little hot, I can wait a bit,
but not much longer as my mouth waters


To the smell of a juicy patty
on a crispy bun.

I give in.


I take a bite,
leaving behind a trail of teeth marks – no,
indentations, more like
and at that moment


as a bit of grease splashes on my tongue
as a piece of meat snags onto my tooth
as the egg bun falls apart in my hands


I know – oh I know
what a gift this truly is, and just how awesome
everything really is. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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