Both being genuine
American institutions
baked in tin foil pan ware
stuffed and seasoned
beneath superficial layers
of flaky cinnamon crust
with fluted edges
and pastry lattice

Left to age coolly
upon the ledge
of an open window
where curious passerby
are enchanted
with its faint now fading
imitation of sweetness
salivating for tiniest sliver
of dreams deferred

In delicious anticipation
now doubled over
in pangs of hunger
for satisfaction lacking
while the victrola of Victor
plays in the background
leisurely stirring
a lilting melody
of selective
colonial memory

Songs of praise
for a legion
of forefathers
whose children
have sworn allegiance
to peel any skin
from antiquity
which might reveal
the rotting excesses
now infecting a nation
to its very core

For we are absent
of evidence
that brave or courageous
pioneering souls
were amongst those
who first landed
upon these shores
only thieves and xenophobes
who bartered a bounty
of human lives
to secure
a more perfect union
than they could offer
the world in return.