Revised, from 2019.

It’s not enough
to just say sausage
in a world with
boudin, andouille,

sujuk, saveloy,
bratwurst, kielbasa, 
chorizo, linguica, 
mortadella, and more;

not enough to speak of booze
in the presence of
arak, poitin, tiswin,
pulque, Calvados,

lager, pilsner,
Henny, MD-2020, aquavit,
absinthe, corn liquor,
and whiskies galore.

This world is built
on specifics, motes 
of savor and flavor
and all manner of tastes

pulled from local waters, 
land and legend. To condense them
leaves you wanting.
To turn away from soft words 

toward ones
with gristle
is to humble yourself
so you can sit

at rough tables
with tough people
listening to them
speak of joy and pain

as they suck the burn
of andouille, or
debate, laughing, over
boudin noir or boudin blanc;

as you all wash a thick meal down
with strong bock followed
by shots of schnapps or korn;
perhaps hear someone tell

of how they came
from some place
where the old folks
made one thing

that put all else
to shame, and
hear in that
a cry for a lost home

where the right words
opened the right doors
to where the world 
was right.