The veneration of olive oil and pasta
Is a fact of life
At the deli that I patronise.
Sandwiches serve as a pretext
For spreading garlic butter.
The son works under the mother;
Everyone knows who is in charge.
I watch them come and go, the regulars,
Exchanging easy banter
With the ones behind the counter.
I find that I enjoy the atmosphere;
No one is hurried here,
And earthly pleasures are respected.
©2016 Michael Fraley
Back to Poem-O-Rama