-our daily bread and other scents-

Inside the frantic kitchen

they don’t wait for you.

they’ll eat when it’s ready,—

when it’s on the table

or in some instances serve themselves 

from the pots on the gas-stove burners 

before the food reaches the table.

there, the bread is laid-out,—

a thin, crackling sheet of crust

direct from the ovens of Marzilli’s Bakery

sitting a stone’s-throw from the kitchen table
and I realize I've spoken of this phenomenon
on other occasions, but stay with me.

I'm talking about a ritual of a family
eating starch-heavy, sugar rich food at,
or in direct reach of, the kitchen table. 

from any open window, the sweetest

scent of the bakery is folded into the acid

aroma of simmering tomato sauces

layered upon the pungency of leaded gasoline

pumping into the neighborhood cars from the working

Esso station across the street

and by the way,
after a summer rainstorm, the scents

of metal and asphalt are added to the mixture.

mangiare!

                                         Quequechan / c.'53