Oh, there is no substitute for the experience of the Ol’ Greasy Spoon!

Something about surviving the Garbage Plate

Should earn one a badge of honor…

What is a Garbage Plate, you ask?

(As if the name weren’t self-explanatory!)

 

Pull up a greasy booth

And feast upon a platter half covered with macaroni salad,

The rest with a mound of mushy, burned homefries

(Or were they once mashed potatoes?

The absorbed grease might make one think so!)

Onto this delectable pile add:

Two cheeseburger patties (hold the buns!),

Plops of mustard,

An orgy of onions,

All topped with a gray, minced mystery meat

Seasoned with the unidentifiable.

 

Now why, you might ask, are you awarded two slices of bread with this concoction?

Well, you need something to soak up all that grease

Or else it will slosh and slip through

Your digestive tract amidst waves of nausea.

A quick glance tells me I’m the only female in the place—

Uh oh!  My curiosity might bring the fate of Blue Beard’s wives

To become that gray, minced mystery meat

With the unidentifiable seasoning!

A misogynist’s delicacy subliminally served to the

T-shirts and ties,

Khakis and jeans,

Cell phones and pagers amongst ball caps and key rings

Lined up seven deep for their daily lube jobs.