explaining hot dogs to Europeans

explaining hot dogs to Europeans

hot dogs
plump taut hot flesh
nestled in warm soft bread bun
studded with red (tomatoes) and white (onions)
and a ribbon of ketchup
(not toe-mat-oh sauce)
crack the sound of the bat
the waft of steam from the warm bath
from which they’re drawn
or the crisp black stripes of caramelized skin
the hot red sizzle and smoke of the grill
or the woodsmoke mixed with cedar duff
of camping in the northwest
the hot packet of meat comfortably warming your palms
on a cold spring Little League night
the sinful carnivorous pleasure
of the hot dog joint
in Boulder’s sanctimonious heart
Smith’s spicy thick hot dogs
a taste of my childhood
made by my neighbor/friend’s family for generations
Sara’s – the venerable greasy spoon at the peninsula
we’d brave the line then hurry
to mix hot dog, ice cream, soda, sand
with sun sinking into the lake
the first time I tasted a Hebrew National dog,
considering converting
spring training in Phoenix
watching the Cubs
learning from Chicago masters
to add tomato and onion

There’s nothing quite like an American hot dog
(if you’re American
and eat beef).