---

back in the day
folks don't buy mayonnaise
they make their own
at a slow boil
on a wood stove
with eggs, milk and vinegar

serve it with
beef and turkey bologna
Kosher and Halal
German and even Lebanon
and of course
there's Oscar M-a-y-e-r

Grandma buys baloney
sliced from a log
as a special treat
for the 'end of school' picnic
with homemade mayo
to my mom and Uncle Al
-once a year

I'm five years old
when Daddy picks Grandma Cochrane
up from Greyhound Bus Stop
Mama makes her a baloney sandwich
she eats it like sirloin steak
her lips smacking
and her teeth clicking

---

Love the "lips smacking and her teeth clicking," Cheryl, and this whole meditation on baloney and mayo down through the generations. Makes me want to go get some. A couple edit thoughts: S2 seems out of chronology somehow, "back in the day" and "turkey bologna", for example; that whole S could be cut, I think. And seems odd to add "Cochrane" to same grandma's name in last S; nor is it clear if this is N's other grandma. -Tom

cheryl, still enjoying this poem a lot. but a bit hung up by the "to" in S2. tom

I'm getting old.  I remember those days.  Now we're the United States of Arugula, with all KINDS of exotics right there on the supermarket shelf.   I liked my baloney fried, so it would form a pocket in the middle, and they thought I was exotic on Oak Street when I liked ketchup AND mustard on my hotdog.

we friend "baloney-cheese-baloney" melting a velveeta slice in the middle. that's it! i DO have to go get some.

hey, congrats, cheryl.
'bout time we got some REAL baloney on front page!
tom