heart breaking news

when i hear the words,

we're having

spaghetti squash for dinner

tonight,

without bread,

or meat,

or red sauce.

i want to cry. i go find

a chair and pout

in the darkness.

what has the world come

to?  how i wish sometimes

it was nineteen sixty-five

all over again,

with my mother

standing at the stove

cooking real food. 

meatballs in the pan,

red sauce

splattering all over her

hands.

the pot boiling over

with noodles,

the warm oven filled with

garlic bread.

peering into the kitchen,

asking if it's ready yet?