The Haven

if only all of
us were privy to a warm
shell of seasoned meat

Great Lost Bear

feeling skeptical
as the northern version of
spicy is, well, not

Local 188

we share many things
(train rides, stained mugs, pickles, dreams)
but brunch is sacred

Duck Fat

the things that move us;
holy trinity of spud,
fowl grease and fungus

The Gallows

i refuse to live
in a world where the answer
to poutine is no

M Bar and Lounge

sleeping tidily
in lacquered berths, char and silk,
what fine orphanage

Kelly's Diner

if only we all
were soaked in cinnamon and
butter and mercy

Frank's Steak House

i am sixty-five;
townies do not give a damn
with each beefy chew

Russell House Tavern

thyme-scented chicken
adrift; potato, butter
in parts one to one

Fatty Crab

whiskey chased by egg;
squid, short-rib, oh the comfort
duck fat in my pores