Michael M.

Born to the world from bread and grease,

The mysterious heap of heartburn and cholesterol arrives at my table.

My glorious mountain of savory flavor.

We meet for the first time, eye to sesame seed.

I struggle to grip the mound of beef, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and onions.

I stare down my prey, searching for a weak spot.

My teeth sink deep into the warm bath of condiments,

Fireworks of spice and tomato troubadours serenade my arrival.

A dry bun tickles my lip as I take away the inaugural bite.

I look down at the newly blemished burger.

Once so beautifully broiled, now so tasty in my mouth.

I must pause and relish in the cascading sensation of smoky bacon, American cheese, and beef sliding down my throat.

Safe and happy in my belly, the battle continues.

The Green Berets, the undercover commandos of the operation

Lay siege to my helpless taste buds.

Poor guys.

The onslaught of peppers, pickles, and onions subdue my tongue.

Not even onto my fries or salad, I am defeated.

Fifteen years old, death by burger.

I recline in my seat and think about times

When I was a quarter pound lighter…