Panera

Panera raisin bread is the bee's knees'
TITS, yo. All six of them, And yet

I'm not really sure if it's standout,
exemplary in the raisin bread category
- which ranges wide in texture, spice,
coherence ("holding together," in this
case - Panera's landing a dot below
the middle of the scale, separating
rather easily along the swirl, but
- not by itself! If you pull) but
two pieces just toasted, still hot
with an egg you just fried
applied between, it's

sublime and richly simple
and rudely, vulgarly, spurtily
hot and saltily sweet, limp
and helpless, the softness of a yolk
I would never throw off
but must wipe, every bite huge
as the thing diminishes

There we are now, all
tidy and clean. I feel
like an orgiast.

Eating a fried egg sandwich
is an art I will forever be stuck
at Primitivism with, stylistically. It
is made much less so

if you've overdone the thing.