Ode to the Hot Dog
At the ring of the twelve noon bells,
On a corner of small consequence,
In a city of little more,
I passed a blue bill of five
To the man with the winking cart
And received in exchange
a most perfect tube of steak!
Red and revelous!
Socked and sizzling!
Plump and perfectious!
A meaty finger of heaven
Tucked into a blanched roll,
Waiting (as a lover waits) to be devoured!
A steady hand I employed in the deployment of condiments
Two beads of mustard,
(more yellow than the noonday sun!)
Ladles of sop mop immature cucumber,
(a fist of tang for the devouring!)
A blush of virginal onion,
(to fend off those who may stray too close to my grizzled grin!)
And a shot of crimson Heinz!
(blood of the palate!)
The humble hot dog,
Beautiful at wild,
Still more beautiful when surrounded by spring air!
My first bite is Olympus,
It is hero and beast, drawn and lovely,
April's pulse in my mouth!
Bite after bite of wild, ripping beauty!
Slug after slug of ripe hot doggery!
Zeus and Hera cooking in my belly!
The dog finishes with a gulp of bubbly soda
And an onion-soaked airy belch!
At the end of it all,
Little remains of my lovely dog
but crust crumbs, a scintilla of mustard,
a dot of ketchup,
and a tear of joy trailing from my eye.
My hot breath and leaping gulliver sing the noon's praises!
All kneel before the hot dog wrangler!
All hail the sausage seller!
Grower of immaculate tube steak!
Holder of gracious Gods!
Sacker of hungry mugs!
© Michael Gravel