"When Pizza is the Yardstick Measured By"

Might there be more to our menu choices than meets the eye?

My sister and I eat pizza
the way our mother taught us
with reverence and gusto
    Faux Italians
        eating Greek pizza
        in Sicilian style

Life has its occupational hazards
and occasional surprises
        at times bursting forth
like the hot reservoir
        of lava sauce
concealed beneath the cheesy surface
        when teeth arrive
            too hastily

Gathering at the table
comparing our differences and opinions
        we struggle to make sense
of each other's decisions
because we cannot
        be in each other's bodies
nor can we step
        in each other's footprints
            so poorly fitted to our own feet

Life offers many impediments to misdirection
that gather and sprinkle themselves
        before us
            like some Romano fairy dust
but they are easily missed

When pizza is the yardstick measured by
        it is so much simpler
an 8-slice curve unbroken and unending
until someone makes the first bold move
        and this is so easy to do

We can always burn our mouth-roof
        in our haste
but the prospect offers little resistance
and we gleefully make our mess
        with strings of melted cheese and life
connecting the burnt palate and the plate
        to the greater whole,
            and we giggle
like schoolchildren

It is a slice of life to be sure;
        all the right ingredients
            in all the right proportions
and the catharsis of convection
    in the mystery of the oven
is what brings us back to the table
        again and again

My sister and I wink and nod
for we still love pizza
        and now we each order our own
with toppings most suited
        to our own wishes
            and our own journeys
we share in the experience
and no longer fight
        over the last piece



Copyright © Andrew McKnight. All Rights Reserved.

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