for Kate Flannery
Shall I compare thee to a bag of Utz?
Thou art more salty with potato crunch.
Rough winds may shake an ex-pat Philly clutz
When Lay's chips are what we are forced to munch
Sometime too hot the eye of L.A. shines,
And oft' is Philly's finest dinner ruin'd;
As every mile from home cheesesteaks decline,
By chance or moron's cooking style untrimm'd:
But thy eternal add-i-tude shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that "Yo" thou owest;
Nor L.A. brag you a lollipop-head babe,
When in eternal love to scrapple thou grow'st:
My sweets I'll ship, which should arrive day three,
My heart I send, my TastyKakes for thee.