There was a time when I only ate
rice,
curry,
chapatis,
mangoes,
pickle,
dosas, dosas,
and daal.
I ate it for breakfast.
I ate it for lunch.
I ate it for dinner; a time when bread a mere luxury
In this time, Inside a small cafeteria alone and curious–
I picked up my first slice
A square, sweet, tomato sauce cheese atop.
Bland!
I declared: young and inexperienced.
Then I one day,
Many, many, many years later,
I moved to New York–New York City!
It was there one night–one drunken night– I ordered the slice,
The slice of all slices: thin crust, cheese, sifted garlic, oregano flakes, and cheese, more cheese.
So simple, yet bursting
part flavor; part comfort—
Burning my tongue, a small sacrifice
That night,
I strolled–
silently moving
And sang, my first, my deepest apology:
Oh pizza, dear pizza!
I do love you so;
I’m sorry so sorry
I judged you so!
Grateful, so grateful for this second chance, I finished my slice
awaiting my ride.
