Ode to a Fatih
some fatihs are big,
and some fatihs are … not small
but the fatih that I
love more of all is . . . uncle fatih!
who could hate uncle
(a strapping young man)
who lives to sell
pizza, to the foils of east van
but is this
pizza normal? Well, by heavens, no!
it’s the greatest spun
circle since that pat sajak show!
with the crust, you’ll
be smitten, with the toppings, delighted
like a kegger’s on
your tastebuds, and the whole world’s invited!
there’s feta, there’s
pesto, there’s sundried tomatoes
there’s sesame,
olives, and seasoned potato
for breakfast, for
dinner, for lunch or a snack
I can’t get enough –
it’s like homemade crack!
I say shun the pizzas
of food courts of malls
their pizza is rancid,
like wildebeest balls
their crusts are so
thick, and their toppings so thin
and I’d rather eat
from a back-alley bin
and at five bucks a
slice, it’s a terrible deal
but on
broadway/commercial, you can a grand meal!
when I’ve nought in my
pocket but a cold loon and toon
I can still buy two slices.
which will warm me till noon
thus I say to sir
fatih, the joint’s wonderful owner:
your pizza’s orgasmic!
it gives me . . .
an erection
so if you’re in east
van, when it’s cold and it’s rainy
and your mood is as
cold and as vile as dick cheney
and your wife ate your
dog and your mind’s going batty
then get thee a pizza-
from the great UNCLE FATIH!
Colin
j Stewart, 2007