I miss you.
I miss the ritual of seeing you. Having you.
Admiring your beauty. All the colors and garnishes you dress yourself with.
You were the best way to punctuate my visits whenever I was home.
You were heavy in my hands, so full of life and flavor.
You were always there for me, ready rain, sleet, snow, or sun.
Always warm for me.
I miss how you would engage all of the senses.
Beauty in my eye.
Tempting to the touch.
Your smell invoking so many memories.
Tasting your buns.
The snap in your skin when I would bite down on you, piercing your delicate surface.
Ode to Karl Ehmer’s, best German kielbasa in NJ.
Wait, what did you think I was talking about?
Not all my writing is about heartbreak and women, you know.
(No joke, I saw surface and the first thing I thought about were the kielbasa back home. Oh dear god, this was stupid, I’m so sorry. Hahah.) Plot twist?