Hot Dog Man
BY BEN KALLUS
For decades, my cart has been here on this street.
I’m savvy and seasoned, and so is my meat.
I’m quick when I grip ‘round the squeeze bottle’s neck.
I do not take Amex, please pay cash or check.
But sometimes the workday is shitty and sour,
Whenever the city is smoky and dour,
And all of the people just bustle on by,
Like roaches, they scurry and scuttle and fly
And they’d certainly never look me in the eye.
So whenever I manage to catch a stray gaze,
Through the car exhaust mixed with my griddle’s gray haze,
I make sure I say this, with my grill still ablaze:
“Nine dollar franks! Nine dollar dogs!
Line up and buy them, you rank, slimy hogs!”
SAM GUIDON