John Homan

Cheese Sandwich

Tonight I wanted a cheese sandwich.
I have been described as a picky eater in the past,
but tonight I wanted something simple.

A cheese sandwich,
two slices of white bread and mayonnaise,
two slices of American processed cheese,
two slices of bread and butter pickles.

A paper plate,
an ice cold diet cola.
eating standing up in the kitchen.
Flip flops and cargo shorts on a hot summer night.
The window air conditioner blows on a shirtless back.

The pickles crunch.
The bread is soft.
The cheese is…well it's cheesy!
The mayonnaise is creamy.

Right here, right now, I could not be happier.
The addition of anything else would ruin it.

Basil Mayonnaise?
Smoked Gouda?
Prosciutto ham?
All crap...Leave it alone-it’s perfect.

When you must add to everything,
when the simple is boring,
when only the complex and new can satisfy,
you have lost the perspective necessary to enjoy living.

Nothing will ever be good enough.
Never satisfied.
Always searching.
Hopelessly trendy,
without a love of life essential.

I beg you, before it’s too late—learn to love cheese sandwiches.
(first appeared in WordPlay Open Mic Anthology, 2017)

 

John Homan is a poet and percussionist from Bend, Oregon, he is a graduate of Indiana University. His work has appeared in Chiron Review, Misfit Magazine, Mojave Heart Review, and Constellate Magazine among others. He lives in Elkhart Indiana with his wife, daughter and their two cats, Henry and Lucy.