scraping the barrel here
asking me to write about pizza
most of which I’d rather not
but then I remember the glorious pizza of my childhood
Shakey’s Pizza Parlor
oh the world has never seen pizza in all its potential glory
unless they experienced pizza in its American infancy
large viewing windows, the better to see the miraculous thin dough discs flung into the air
by white-aproned teenage boys hiding their pimples under a full-on toque blanche
thin crust, thin crust, thin crust
and black-and-white silent films looped to the timing of a player piano
ahh, pizza was never so grand
This is one of those poems that really seems to capture the glory of a thing and a place long forgotten probably by most people. I particularly love this line “unless they experienced pizza in its American infancy”.
Nostalgia trip–Shakeys!
One could write odes to pizza as the most playful, creative food: cold for breakfast, hot for lunch or dinner.
I love the thin crust, thin crust, thin crust insistence; it’s polarizing in the pizza world (thick clusters unite!).
Mmm, I love your reminiscing. I’ve never been to the Americas, but that gives me a homely feel, thinking of childhood memories.
Pizza sure can stir up some great memories!