Still Life

age twenty-two
and this is what my life has come to.

Memory:
the grocery in late May,
refrigerated section,
staring at hot dog packages.
I love the ones with cheese;
Ballparks plump
oozing saturated fats
and oily goodness
burns your mouth on the first bite,
always and always,
but honey, it's so good.

The first bite always reminds me of our first kiss.

And I'm standing with tears
hot as thunder,
waterfalling down my cheeks.

Decision:
imminent
because the store is going to close
and we need hot dogs.
I heft packs in opposite hands
I love that burn
but you gave me my first taste
and I'm supposed to move,
move on now.
The stockboy is staring.

One with cheese,
one without.
Thump and thump into my basket.
We'll see if I'm ever brave enough
to grill that miracle of
injected beef pieces
and burn hot again.