No Stigma
I bear no stigma of the false gourmet.
No one believes I'm filling up my tray
With Belgian foie gras as the coup de grâce.
I've often said to Essie's chef, "No mas!"
(He hails from Argentina.) "Put away
That spork!" cries Essie. "Do I have to say
Once more, give up this mishigas?
Hot dogs, and iced tea in a paper cup,
With plenty of hot mustard. Not too posh,
And my best trousers won't run in the wash,
So tell the man I'll have another pup;
I pour on ketchup, and I suck it up,
Drinking my cola with spaghetti squash.