You can keep your parchment like Tombstone,
your passable Jacks,
your pedestrian Red Baron,
your pretentious Digiorno's,
give me the Home Run
never has there been a frozen pizza
so seductive
the firm yet pliant
buttery flake of the crust
the generous, nay perfect, proportion
of thick
bubbling cheese
the sharp bite of cured meat
nothing average
nothing bland
nothing practical
about a slice
of Home Run Inn 'Za.
Devoid of frozen pizza pragmatism
it transcends the flash or flare
of the pizzeria
with a deep and abiding richness
a dimension
that is sustaining
even rapturous
like a patient sunrise.
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