Coppanezzio’s Kicks

I can’t believe you,
that you would reject me
in this most heinous way.
I offered to buy you a sandwich
of the finest meats and bread
and you reply
with a disinterested “I’ll think about it”?

“I’ll think about it”?
What the HOLY FUCK!
Coppanezzio’s kicks ass!
You don’t sleep on their sandwiches, lady!
I’m for a dry pastrami myself,
but I’ve heard rumors about the quality of their salami,
how the mustard is cultivated from the fattest seeds,
and their poppyseed hero rolls
serves some as a narcotic
(their lettuce is just iceberg,
but whatever).

I offer you a meal
at the finest sandwich shoppe
in the region,
and you rebuff me.
Rebuff!
Unbelievable.
Unacceptable!

You don’t know what you’re missing,
madam, this I swear.
The delicacy that could have been yours,
that is gone forever,
never ever to be experienced,
or until my fifty ninth offer
to take you out
– whichever comes first.

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