This weekend, I took Slow Food USA’s $5 Challenge. The gauntlet laid down: to create a delicious home-cooked meal that costs $5 or less per person.
To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a poem. It’s called Ode to the Chinese Takeout Place Near My Old Apartment:
You seduce me, you know
with your glossy nuggets of floury meat
and your vegetables, crisp then yielding
like a starchy executive in a big-screen comedy.
Day after day you whisper
down the street and around the corner
to the white-walled living room with the anemic lightbulbs
and jaundiced molding
where I’ve collapsed fresh off the train.
“Come back to me,” you murmur,
as I wonder if the kitchen wouldn’t mind just one more day of disuse.
IT’S A TRAP.