Ciabatta as good--no--better
than the ones Kay's dad brought home from the bakery in Monterey.
We ate them on the couch while watching 12 Angry Men.
Buttery. Flakey. Thick.
I didn't think I could taste bread so good
and yesterday revisited that disbelief.
Hill said, "I will take you to the best sandwich ever,"
and it was not even a lie. Not even a little bit.
The semi-circle was hand-sized, comfortable,
and although the stories my friend told me were not pleasant,
there is something pleasant about it--
holding that cradle of tomato over brown butcher paper.
Life might be unfair, but it is just--
because we are walking justice.
Our positivity is the criminal system,
and if you refuse to be locked up,
you can't be.
Let them try.
You might bite down so hard your braces brackets break,
let them try.
In the end,
you might be at a picnic table
filling up on a champion lunch
and spinning your straw
in fresh whipped cream.