Burned Toast

Burned toast
always reminds me of my grandmother,
I don't know why she always used to burn it,
I think she was afraid of disease-ridden moisture,
or maybe she just liked it crispy.

Tater-tots
always remind me of my sister,
I don't know why she loved them,
I think they baffled her mind with the miracle of microcosm
or maybe it was because they taste a lot like french fries.

Maple
always reminds me of my mother,
I don't know why she loved it,
I think it made her feel at one with the trees,
or maybe it just reminded her of pancake syrup.

Peanut brittle
always reminds me of my father,
I don't know why he loved it,
I think it reminded him of the rigid fragility of the human condition,
or maybe he just liked all the sugar.

Love
always reminds me of God,
I don't know why he eats it,
I think He needs it to survive,
or maybe He just likes the taste.