Save some Scrapple for me... or maybe not

 For the Compass we're printing a poem by Tony Salvatore about Scrapple.

He had emailed me and many others a piece he wrote about his wife craving it when she was pregnant.

So I wrote this poem for him, after calling the Terminal Diner to check.

SCRAPPLE FOR ONE, PLEASE

There's a cozy little diner
in our town. Terminal Luncheonette.
Once it was the last bus on the
55 Line.

Now we go there for American breakfast fare.
I like to sit at the counter and read the newspaper till Ellen brings me my breakfast.

Is this seat taken? asks a gentleman wrapped in a warm jacket and scarf.
Go right ahead, I say.
My name's Tony, he says. Gotta warm up
my innards with a good hot breakfast.

You came to the right place, says I.

Two eggs over easy, he says, some hash browns and a brick of Scrapple.

The juke box plays a Jason Aldean tune
and the place starts jumpin.

Delicious smells come from the kitchen.
So that's a brick of Scrapple, I think.
Don't look too bad.

+++

Tony wrote me back that even HE couldn't eat an entire brick. That's cuz I dunno what a brick is. So I wrote, take it home for your dog.

+++

May I mention how frigging cold it is right now. Checked my thermostat to make sure the A/C isn't on erroneously.

Tiny pic of Tony below, scuse me, Anthony Salvatore from the MCES website.