tastes are usually optional
but not in the case of the
grilled cheese sandwich
and tomato soup
the salty oily crunch
and warm stringy goo
married to a creamy red
spoonful flecked with basil
escorted through the gate of lips
down a dark path to a hot party
of dancing couples
already raving in your gut
it’s in the American
Cookbook for the Soul
corner folded
on the recipe’s page
till it wore out tore out
slipped into a comfortable memory
that needs to be jogged
on those late afternoons
when the evening’s menu
carries no promise of fun
above or below the waist