When I was a kid,
we ate hotdogs and
mac’n’cheese
often,
oven-cooked pizza
that had a black crust
on top because
the oven was broke.
Then there were
the weird French fries
that we called
Interstate Fries.
They were like a potpie–
piping hot on the outside
and just so damnably cold
on the inside.
Runny chili and
pork steaks,
corned beef
and government cheese.
These things called
“papa burgers” because
my papa would bring them
over while visiting.
They were government issued.
Like the cheese.
And contained 50 percent
particle board and paper mache.
One time, when opening a
giant tin of peanut butter
(also government issued).
I cut my finger by squeezing
the serrated edges.
Blood shot onto the counter;
I didn’t know I had that much
in me.
We are more spoiled now,
and I’m currently
addicted to chicken and rice.
