The Pizza Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The Pizza

Maybe I, am artist
-I have my retreat
-if involved with pizza

My mate is the oven's conveyor
-that is best meeting place and domain;
- I stop and it is my favoured location
-pizza is 'favourite' haunt for me; an artist
-pure white flour became dough
-after joined the water, salt and baking soda
-now puffy sticky, sleazy, like clay
-is taken into and already greasy
-and oiled pan
-and beaten, flattened
-then covered

I do write pen in mind
-keep journal
-track of travel

The dough is a sort creamy
-or maybe brown-beige
-on the sides, all around
-oil declares: "I'm here! "

The man who stands at the table
-no headband, no gloves, reaches out
-takes items that are chopped or sliced
-after cheese and the paste as its sauce
-onion that is pink, white to red
-tomato, green-pink, up to red
-and pepper in green and olive
-black and pickled rings
-then bacon, white to red
-pepperoni, pineapple

Then pan goes on the chain
-from eye, rolls away
-takes around ten minutes
-like the melted snow appears
-this time in spring and elsewhere

Is sliced with the sharp huge knife
-and set on the plates or the box
-and if not in same pan
-to be served

Driver takes the bag
-its bottom is flat
With a board

The ticket is like a pre-plan, flight-plan
-when depart to fly air-planes,

GPS is set and then take off
-on the road and zigzag
-street and building
-and in times the buzzer

Clients, many times
-act so that break heart
-a young kid, old woman
-opens a small bag
-pays all change in loonies and toonies
-quarters and pennies

Piggy bank is murdered…broken…

They try to tip but…

Pizza is like a book
-all paintings, animate
-caricatures and designs

Each colour intrigues
-they have hearts and brains and speak
-need to be too careful not to miss:
- "I'm olive of Spain; Pepper of Peru or
-Mexico, spices come from Italy,
-pork, sausage raised and made locally
-Montreal or Quebec, as is wheat
-prairie…
-labourers all brown, black hair
-undertake dirty job…