I ate my string beans cooked too long
in cream of mushroom soup
and I ate soggy tater tots
and neon green fruit loops.
I ate cranberry relish
served in the shape of a can,
but please, mama, pretty please, I’d say
don’t make me eat the Spam.
I’d eat dip made from cheese food
on chips from Frito Lay,
I’d eat red Jello salad
with layers of mayonnaise,
I’d eat the bits of Jiffy Pop
burned on the disposable pan,
but please, mama, pretty please, I’d say
don’t make me eat the Spam.
One day when I had left the home
I teased my mom about
the way she served us processed food
when we were growing up,
like cans of Spam and beans and peas
from dusty shelves at the store,
Oh honey, she said, I wanted fresh food.
It was all we could afford.