richmond

my onion bagel is breaded and fried
and crusted with bubbling cheese,
on steaming grits it softly resides,
its hole filled with fresh collard greens

chicken fried memories and larded dreams
greet me with each bite i chew,
and i feel at home on these strange southern streets,
’cause no food says comfort like you






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andy

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Author’s web sitehttp://poemsaboutonionbagels.com

03

08 2009

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