the quicksand that caves in my chest gives life in my death the sweet mango grains fill lungs with involuntary smiles I have the pleasure of my last meal being desert for dessert my heart beats to the rhythm of the feet of my tribesman ancestors the night before pillage takes the village the gods have replaced Visine with Hennessy and banned the word 'sober' so I'm in trouble again and a motherfucker earned it but does he deserve it not much matters since the transtemporal DJ stopped the music my tongue is all out of left feet
poetry collection by Dana Bell
by John Crean
“This is a great bagel.” my friend said to me as he looked up, finishing the first bite of his breakfast. I looked back at him in disgust, he thought this was a great bagel, this was at best an okay bagel, if he wanted a really good bagel, he should go to my bagel place. It was all at once that I then realized I had been spoiled my entire life. My friend looking back at me wasn’t from New Jersey, or even the tristate area, every bagel he had ever was a fake, a mere imitation of the very breakfast I take for granted every single day. My disgust with myself for how pompous I was being quickly turned in envy for him and his innocence. I had been raised on great bagels; I can’t even remember the first time I had a bagel. Like an addict I’ve developed a tolerance, what was once a great bagel is now and okay bagel and amazing bagels are now journeys out into obscure locations where small delis will sell you hand crafted artisan bagels made of gold for 3.50.
One of the great things about going to a college in New Jersey is that I got to witness most of my out-of-state friends have their first “real” bagel. They haven’t developed a taste for real bagels yet, I doubt they’ve even had lox. Soon I watch as they become involved in arguments about the name of certain breakfast meats and become invested in whether we have enough everything bagels because plain just doesn’t do it anymore. Soon enough they’re telling me that they can’t eat bagels back home anymore and that they might have to buy a batch of frozen ones to take home for spring break.
Sharing things you love with people you love should really be your entire reason for loving the things in the first place. If everyone kept what they thought was great to themselves then the world would have way less great stuff. Seeing someone love a bagel that I just thought was okay is honestly even better than if I had loved the bagel myself. Now that my friends and I have all become bagel snobs it’s much more fun to discuss which of the bagel places is better when it isn’t just you alone in a room ranting about bagels to yourself.