Sometimes you need a sandwich,
especially when it's not all you need.
Every culture calls it something
else. It's bread and something else.
Sometimes you need dry and warm.
Or you need to rationalize failure
or to read about Sufism. Sometimes
you need to be touched, seen, heard.
But's that's all beside the point,
isn't it? when you're stomach
and your gums ache from
hunger. I'm making sandwiches
today. To be given to the homeless.
I see them beside the street
where I drop off the sandwiches.
They live in tents. Sleep on
grass. In the wealthiest empire
ever to exist. Whatever. They
can't eat outrage. It's the sandwich
that matters, sitting there on a
plate, a plank, or your lap.
The distributors want bread,
bologna, cheese, and mustard.
Never mayonnaise. Someone
I'll never know lifts the sandwich,
opens their mouth, chomps,
tastes, chews, swallows. Feels
just a little bit better. I hope.
What do I know? Nothing. I know
sometimes I've needed a sandwich.
To get from one moment
to the next. And some water.
And a place to sleep. And sleep.
But it starts with a sandwich.
Something very particular
in the exact place you are
is what you need. What I need.
Some bread and something else.
To eat. To eat. To eat.
