pizza
that i set on the counter.
the expiration date
smudged
beyond reading.
there's
an inch of frost on the box.
it's been
in Siberia for God knows how long,
but i'm tired
of eggs,
tired of peanut butter
and jelly
sandwiches.
i check the top shelf for
Imodium,
a half full box,
then
slide the pie into the oven,
with the grey droppings
of sausage
not quite
thawed out.
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