Long Sourdough Poems
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The Bakers Boys had a bakery for as long as I knew.
We would get fudge, cookies, cakes, and pies from them too.
My grandma bought sourdough and rye.
My mom would buy cookies from no other guy.
Why do you call them boys? I asked my mother.
She had no answer, but I heard snickering from my brother.
You forget she is old too, said my sister, better watch yourself.
Every kind of dessert was laid up on this bakery shelf.
The Baker Boys were in their nineties now.
They added flavored milk which they made from a cow.
Why do they call them boys? Asked my tiny granddaughter.
Not sure I replied. But their bread is fresh if not hotter.
Bread and Butter showed up first,
thank God, with bread and butter
(we hadn't any food out yet).
They had flown in from Detroit
on a real time-crunch.
Then the Gherkins arrived
Pushing through and eating
Half the sourdough and margarine.
Total Gherks.
The cornichons arrived soon after,
slightly smaller than gherkins
and with French accents.
They stood against the back wall
smoking cigarettes.
The limes ubered over,
Sour looks on their faces
while handing us egg salad.
Their driver got lost
Putting them in a real pick-
Oh here comes an army of Hungarians,
They had been sun basking all day,
Their conversations crisp and witty.
Must be all that vitamin D.
Ahhh the Dills, speaking of d's.
They're royalty here.
Everyone's clapping,
Which is hard to do for a pickle.
Oh Kosher was right behind the Dills
and we didn't notice.
Hope that's not a big dill.
Now I smell them. Garlic.
What's that?
Germans have been waiting in the hallway?
I told them skinless is fine.
They found my terminology "unappealing?"
Cumberto, send some herring out for them, anyhow.
Welcome full sour,
welcome half sour,
and the newborn,
Little quarter sour.
Now take those looks
off your faces
and have a seat.
Last but not least,
the hot pickles,
always late,
soooo popular.
Well, thank-you all for coming
We have herring, potato salad,
Bread and butter, we have baseball
pickle highlights on the tube on a loop and-
Oh!
One more guest I see,
Kool-Aid, of course,
Cuz that's a thing.
Try the vinegar dip,
And please don't stain my couch red.
while experimenting
with flavors
Doctor Sinister
developed
a flavor the world may
have been waiting for.
He dehydrated cucumbers,
onions,garlic, and
a seedless tomato with liquid smoke.
he used a food processor to
to grind them, when he had a powder
he mixed it with dehydrated buttermilk solids
he added some cayenne pepper.
he used it to season ground beef.
he made a egg sourdough and made
hamburger rolls.
when these were done he
combined them making a wonderful
flavored hamburger.
he used cheddar to accent the flavor.
lettuce and tomato, minced onions
two slices of bacon.
and slathered the toasted
bun with thousand island dressing
he called it
The Rhine Carte Burger.
He wasn't finished
he used the same cucumber powder, oion mix
in a sourcream sourdough bread
what did you expect?
well he got knowthing but great results.
come on down to our resturant
and get yo'self sum of dat grub!"
he
A picturesque snow dancing iced winter rings,
imagine its artic coat tail’s sheer zoom,
frosty shriek from children who flaunt its soft melt flake,
the zeal unleashed by doting winter veteran kin attachment,
if adult figures shiver they might whoop,
as well as gorge ravenously on a chilled feast,
from cascade to wobbly ad hoc cold spurt gaze fixer,
snow is both Christmas rampant friend and foe,
aching frostbitten trees with swirls and limp splatters,
gardens bear the ruthless onslaught,
of wispy white sourdough layers,
hoarse vocal mantra cushioned quiver,
in that agile limb shudder on a surface torrent,
fantasy upon fun-filled fantasy such wonderland entanglement,
immerse oneself in the occluding snowball sphere,
camaraderie of fellow eye dazzled worshippers,
at the swooning atmospheric glacial shrine tangible,
of frozen vapour tickling and teasing awestruck mirth,
so ephemeral in its momentary winter surreal deluge,
yet impactful mind lodger so audacious in its billowing beauty
we are all drones on the freeway today
hardly any excitement this side of the bay
then two crazy racing drivers head our way
They whip past me, one yellow, one gray
Youngsters I think rolling my hazel eyes
Unsure actually, their windshields dark as spies
But they drive like maniacs, like I did at twenty-three
When did I turn into old aged sourdough me?
I send a prayer down that freeway for them
two children of someone, named Mary and Jim
Crashing would be devastating for all of us
wanting to join them in their speeding, I give a cuss.
never thought oldsters were any fun
Yet now I have turned into one.
Ground brisket and red bean chili over rice
,...................
Deep fried spaghetti noodles w/zucchini
and bacon and marinara sauce
..............
Teriyaki Roasted pork or
Teriyaki Roasted turkey
W/ broad noodles and vegetables
.............,........
........beef half smokes
In carmelized onions and green peppers
Sweet potato pie
Bourbon carmelized
Pecans
And cheese cake
and brownie yeas
turnovers w/ coffee and rum
.........
.........................
Sourdough cinnamon rolls
With apple and radians
And brown sugar Carmel
.......
Smoked boneless rib sandwiches
Slathered in bbq sauce
One a toasted
Bun w/ the fixings
Served w both sweet potatoes fries
And our English chips
Don't forget the pickle!
..........
Contrasting and full of range.
He featured styles that were
in tuned to her octaves.
She wished him to shine to
show a world her discussion making
abilities. She knew that her range
her assignment would be to
convince him to agree to a point
in the song where
her low range would be answered with
his higher range
her low ooh would be answered
with her higher ooh
until they reached the section of
the piece where the tempo of the
song changed. Octaves to
describe rallentando to
accelerando or vice versa. He would
have to understand and
agree:
to make the rendesion the best
interpretation of a rendering of
the piece. They would talk it over
in a horse and buggy to assure the
gentlemen that she was honest and
sincere. The virtuosity of the man
is all she demands.
To There Own Ambition
Black salsa with garlic and cilantro
with charred green onions
and Ribeye steaks
Sourdough yeast rolls
Garlic parmesan and cream rice pilaf
w/ toasted pine nuts and pancetta
Blackberry and Molten Chocolate souffle'
w/ vanilla ice-cream
with Muscat de-Beaurmes de Venise
A smile might began the evening.
Ground brisket and red bean chili over rice
,...................
Deep fried spaghetti noodles w/zucchini
and bacon and marinara sauce
..............
Teriyaki Roasted pork or
Teriyaki Roasted turkey
W/ broad noodles and vegetables
.............,........
........beef half smokes
In carmelized onions and green peppers
Sweet potato pie
Bourbon carmelized
Pecans
And cheese cake
and brownie yeas
turnovers w/ coffee and rum
.........
.........................
Sourdough cinnamon rolls
With apple and radians
And brown sugar Carmel
.......
Smoked boneless rib sandwiches
Slathered in bbq sauce
One a toasted
Bun w/ the fixings
Served w both sweet potatoes fries
And our English chips
Don't forget the pickle!
..........
On we go past soda, powder
Crusts and icing, filling, pudding
Evaporated milk and extracts
Color, sprinkles, flakes and what's that?
Jars and boxes, pans, wax paper
Jell-O, yellow gelatin and chocolate
Cakes and cornbread, brownies, muffins
Stuff that's made for stomach stuffin'
But we pass them by and thunder
Down the aisle toward our quarry
Dough in hand and mind, imagination pulsing
Panting, hungry pulses racing
Closing to the shelf that's labeled
Microorganism fabled
Single cell meets single-minded
Suddenly from side we're blinded…
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On the shelf above the paper stating, "Please be kind and taper
Wants to needs and basket only what you need and don't leave lonely
Hearts and minds who're seeking solace
With their dough still in their wallets
Hoarding what is not now needed, just take one, with you we're pleading
"Just in case" is not good reason storing up foodstuff and season
Taking all you see before you, just take one, we now implore you
If we all use common courtesy, we'll all get through this most surely
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
But above the shelf and warning there beyond the pastry icing
Empty space and yawning chasm, depth beyond imagination
Spasms of the darkest horror, wracked with rising indignation
Yeast was not there to be found it was not bought and most confounding
Left us shuffling sadly door bound without needed 'gredient in hand
Sour outlook, sour mood, needing one thing for the food which
Must be had for toast or sandwich, avocado, cheese, or Manwich
Leaving us to pine and suffer, relegated for our supper
Dough in wallet, hand on heart
Sourdough must be our part
It’s always sunny in the city where you feel your brother’s love
Like a shiv that someone’s thrust into your side.
Guess those Quakers let their sourdough turn rancid over time.
Now it’s hard to shovel s**t against the tide.
Who wouldn’t shower Santa Clause with snowballs and abuse?
They'd had a losing season, after all.
There's more to what it takes to live in Philly
Than some documents from Independence Hall.
Saw on TV, over Cobb’s Creek, there’s a standoff with police.
The cops intend to turn some vagrants out.
A spark on Osage Avenue might liven up the night.
Just a taste of what this City’s all about.