BLOAT HATS

a BLT is not enough.
it isn't.
nope.
rules is rules,
and during sandwich week,
the rules say: too much is the right amount.
so i grilled and pressed some fresh-baked slices of homemade sourdough,
and turned up the ordinary acronym to turbo-charged tremendousness,
and cranked the flavor up to eleven.
that's a fact.
check the teleport:

Bacon made of tempeh;
Lettuce mixture of spicy baby greens;
Onion, red style;
Arugula, a vegetable;
Tofu, fried up crisp in the bacon leavin's;
Hummus, for a creamy cement to hold it together;
Avocado, because i am NOT an A*-hole;
Tomato, because that's mandatory;
Sourdough, good bread makes better people.
plus fire-roasted tomato sprankles,
and cilantro for good measure.
like i said, too much is the right amount.
wordimus prime.
BLOAT HATS.
that's a BLT, elevated.

c'mon, now-
that's the way you create culinary communication.
it's the word and the deed and the TRUTH as it conjure it.
a magical monologue between me and the world,
taking what i have and making it expert, in small doses,
to stave off hunger, ennui, the doldrums, and despair, in some short term solution
to the deeper and heavier love of life and loss of liberty that loom always
over my shoulder.
i know it's conflict avoidance.
i know it's a brief breath away from the grief i feel most days.
but holy F*.
the inspiration is there, born from unresolved desires,
and passions that have been paused by distance and circumstance.

it's not just a sandwich, it's an exclamation.;
never quiet, never soft.....