a bed to spread the cheese. I don’t like
being stacked with all the rest. I should be
served only to the best.  I break into pieces
when I’m tossed inside a cardboard

box. I’d be lox, a smoky orange-
pink fillet. Sweet, smooth, and shiny. Not
crummy. Cured and plated on Bone red China
for the grandest diner that savors the brine and

smiles as if I'm a satiny shiny fleet. Not just
a snack of wheat that sits as a Ritz served to campers
for a treat. Or placed in rows as dominos looking
like clones. That's not for me!