My First Taste

There was a time when I only ate

rice, 

curry, 

chapatis, 

mangoes, 

pickle, 

dosas, dosas,

and daal.

I ate it for breakfast.

I ate it for lunch. 

I ate it for dinner; a time when bread a mere luxury 

In this time, Inside a small cafeteria alone and curious–

I picked up my first slice 

 A square, sweet, tomato sauce                       cheese atop.

Bland!

I declared: young and inexperienced.

Then I one day,

Many, many, many years later,

I moved to New York–New York City!

It was there one night–one drunken night– I ordered the slice, 

The slice of all slices: thin crust, cheese, sifted garlic, oregano flakes, and cheese, more cheese.  

So simple, yet bursting 

part flavor; part comfort—

Burning my tongue, a small sacrifice

That night,

I strolled–

silently moving

And sang, my first,  my deepest apology:

Oh pizza, dear pizza!

I do love you so;

I’m sorry so sorry

I judged you so!

Grateful, so grateful for this second chance, I finished my slice

awaiting my ride.

NaPoWriMo 

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