something wholesome and American I
miss about the old sack lunch days, up early
to spread peanut butter on cheapass white
bread and slather on some Smuckers and toss
in a vend-a-size bag of chips and an
apple in a brown paper sack with my
name scrawled on it in smelly black sharpie,
toss in a li’l debbie snack and hoof it
on my way to a busy day filled with hope,
optimism, and the American
dream . . . but it all falls apart from there with
the fear of following that with hamburger
helper and its postmodern alchemy
of proactive, sterile embalming agents.

dmpitchford