My last foodie endeavor was a bbq chicken, bacon, and pineapple pizza last night. While that may not sound "nutritious," let me just remind you that chicken and bacon = protein, pineapple = vitamins C, B-6, and A, and barbecue sauce = happy endorphins. I consider pretty much anything made at home from scratch to be good for you, in a body/mind/soul kind of way. I controlled all the ingredients, spent quality time preparing a meal with my boyfriend, and we enjoyed the fruits of our labor together. Also, just look at that thing. Wowza.
If food doesn't inspire you to write poetry, I don't know what would.
Order Up
"Do you want cilantro?"
I bent down into the fridge
to pull out toppings.
"Sure."
You kept at your tasks:
chop veggies,
shred cheese,
slice bacon.
I paced around the kitchen,
going from one odd job
to the next
like a short order chef trying to keep up
with the lunchtime rush.
When our shift finished,
we ate in the living room,
leaving the dishes for later.
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