Nostalgia

Brown bread smells like loam, like

Beer

Like garden mulch

Pumpernickel’s sour snap

Waits for mustard bite

Rye’s seedy strength, bearing up the

Fatty weight of beef

Dense focaccial spring

Olive-studded

Thick with cheese

Dour Russian black bread begs for

Sweet butter, thinly spread

Radish slices, salt

Supple silken warmth of fresh tortilla

Dunked in guac

Sugared crisp of fruit-nut bread

Thinly sliced in toasted bliss

Even pita’s cardboard mimicry

Flood my recollection with each step

Down the bakery aisle

Past the cornucopian cases

Breathing deep of wheat

Condemned to timid crumble, unsupported loft

I devour the past