Love Poem to a Hot Dog

Oh thou frankfurt between a bun,
Why dost thou cause me so much fun?
I love thee for breakfast for lunch and for tea
I love thee in between times, constantly.
Tho' thy quality varies from New York to Rome,
Thou art there late at night for me to take home.
Thy savs are as red as my true love's lips
Thou art a sexual experience, without any hips.
Why don't they serve thee for holy communion,
A bite of the hot god for ecstatic union?
I eat thee for sustenance courage and thrills,
With or without mustard sauce or frills,
And my rampant appetite thou always appeaseth,
With or without mustard sauce or cheeseeth,
And a seven course dinner I never lack -
A hot dog and the old six pack.
Tho' thy tendency is to leap from the bun,
The butter to melt and the sauce to run,
My mouth is there to catch as catch can,
I bite thee off and man oh man,
When thou art gone I feel satisfied,
I love thee so much I get very tongue tied!
As the Buddhist monk said when he bought one to sing -
"Make me one.....with everything!"

Copyright; Rod Gibson