Posts Tagged ‘temperature’

a simple misunderstanding

the coffee shop hadn’t a toaster
and all their bagels were plain
pale pathetic and frigid rings
wrapped up in tight cellophane

cold were the shivers this sent to me
freezing the spine in my back
how could a business still operate
with such an obvious lack?

no answer from the barista
gazing with big doughy eyes
half of me thought i would hear from her
do i with that want some fries?

lifeless and bleak was the future
in such a desolate place
no crumbs to clean from the toaster tray
no onion mess on my face

that’s why i doused it with gasoline
struck the matchbook and then ran
– not ‘cause the doe-eyed barista
jilted me for my best man


12 2009

watching a lightly beaten egg slowly drizzled over an uncut onion bagel

the cup is handled
and notched
it is tilted at a 45-degree angle
now at a 46-degree angle
now 47, now 48

the yellow creeps toward the notch
with absolutely
of urgency

it is yellow and
it is clear and
it is clear bubbles inside thick strands
of yellow and clear
it slides toward the notch
at a 49-degree angle

peeking its bulbous eye
over the curved rim
of the handled glass cup,
it pauses

then plunges

it is a thick elastic strap of yellow and clear
stretching and straining
it is thin
it is thick
it is thin
it splatters on the golden
ring below

steam and spray

cool egg
meets hot crust
and clinging
to every curve

somebody should put that thing in the oven
’cause right now
it’s inedible


11 2009

off to the pool

stuffed in the back seat
the four of us ride
our summer shined skin
sticks to the seat’s hide
and to one another
at shoulders and knees
heads tilt toward the window
in search of cool breeze
there aren’t enough seat belts
but we feel no scare
like bagged onion bagels
we’re going nowhere


11 2009

Public Consumption

That bagel in our waiter’s hand
Has sent me to a far-off land,
Where rings encircle dunes of sand
And toasting suns leave my crust tanned

But sadly this scene fades from sight
As soon as I take my first bite,
Warm day becomes a frigid night
Because my order’s just not right –

There are no onions in this band,
It’s plain and pitifully bland
(Yet in my want to be polite,
I swallow hard, and feign delight)


11 2009


Chin to chest hair
Stretched nape of neck
Taut like bagel skin
(and shiny, you suppose)
Onion pieces protrude
From fast filling temples

You boil


10 2009

Two Bagels, To Go

Sitting on my lap
single crease across its flap
Is a warm paper sack
that contains a double snack
I will take it to my girl
and the fold she will unfurl
There’s a cinnamon for she
and an onion one for me


10 2009

at the bagel shop – or – at the doctor’s office

wrapped in flimsy paper,
each crinkle-producing movement is amplified
you are examined, squeezed,
sometimes even cut

you wonder:
do i look okay?
do i smell like onion?
do they ever turn the heat on in this place?

you don’t know what’s coming next
and you grow colder
with every second


10 2009

Sweet, Sweet Onion Bagel Memories (Are All That I Have Left)

My first bite of bagel burnt the tip of my tongue,
so to cool it I blew all the air from my lung.

The next bite was so hot it scalded my lip,
so I sent it to Iceland on a simmer-down trip.

The steam from bite three felt like fire on my face,
so I built it a rocket and launched it through space.

Now my wounds have healed and my bagel’s no more,
yet I find myself longing for bite number four.


07 2009

breakfast on the balcony

this brown paper bag
is warm to the touch
fingertips tickled
by hot steam and such
the heat gets so great
that i’m losing my clutch —
farewell, onion bagel
i loved you so much


07 2009

summertime reminders

onion bagels
lying by the pool
glistening with body butter
and baking in the sun

don’t forget to flip over, bagels!

and go see a specialist
if an onion spot changes shape.


06 2009