i was sitting in my balcony, waiting for him to appear. He didnt. So in that moment i realized i was waiting for something it wouldn’t never be real. His love.
natalia garay
I am not sad enough to write
or eat a baguette either
Id much rather have green peas
or green beans
or green peace
or just peace
in this world
can peace last forever though?
no, peace needs to be explained
worked on
she eats quietly,
“Mouse,” you ask her, “why? how could you do this?”
she stares at you, with eyes of an owl, chewing on the bread
“no, how could you do it?”
frnce is a wonderful place to live,i live in paris,i love bagguette’s they are my favorite,a omllet or egg on a french bread for breakfast created in the 1800’s is just muah. Every time someone asked me if i want bagguette i simply say wii wii
lauren
France is a wonderful place,i live in Paris France,the greatest place for touring.A baguette is a french bread that was first made the 1800’s.my favorite food is a egg or omlet served on a baguette. i was born in kentucky, my whole family is from America, we went on a mission trip
to france and we loved it there.so we moved there three years ago.
i am Lauren Arthur,14 and i live in france
lauren
I like a delicious baguette. The ones from Paris I’ll never forget. So crispy, so light, I can’t wait until Paris again.
Dalila Petrich
She bit into the end of the loaf, tearing it voraciously with her teeth
“Woah slow down.”
“You slow down! I haven’t eaten all day. This is my breakfast, lunch, AND dinner.”
“Okay, okay, geez.” He threw his hands up in admitted defeat.
hi my name is jordan and i have the planets with me ahhhh incoming jupiter! duck
jordan
I don’t even know what this word means. I think it is some variety of bagel but I could be wrong. It’s hard to think about baguette’s and what they are when you only have sixty seconds to write so the theme of this project is more random than anything else. I don’t know what kind of bagel a baguette would be anyway. Given that the word bag is a part of it, it’s hard to imagine is
Braxton Schieler
Would you like some? It is lambs liver pate. You spread it on a piece of toasted baguette and it is delicious.
Baguette. Camembert. Croissants. Wine. I couldn’t have been more cliché to meet in a French restaurant, not to mention the clichéness of the restaurant itself.
The only thing that bothered me was this constant shattering as skulls fell from the walls.
Anastasia
I took the regular route today. Got the usual groceries. Said hello to the same people. Visited the familiar bakery making the freshest pastries. But today, somehow, I decided to skip my usual doughnut for a baguette. I guess I’m just feeling pretty risky today.
Monsieur, it’s such a nice day – why are you still in your office anyway? It’s past your work time. So come on out and join us for picnic!
Elysia
I don’t know what it is !!
kripi
Elizabeth sighed, tossing her bad of groceries onto her counter as she walked by it. 20 dollars for some overpriced lump of bread, wonderful. But, Anabelle had insisted that she bought only the best home for when her mother came.
The long, crusted bread would prove to be my undoing.
“If you want to help, cut the bread.” There is goes, the pit of my stomach.
“Go ahead. Cut it diagonally.” This is it. My grave will read, “died of incompetency through a yeasty demise.’ Well, hopefully they leave out the ‘yeast’ bit.
I tentatively apply the knife to the crust. As if it is repellent, the crust seems to fly off, leaving the soft interior exposed and squished. Thin film of sweat on my forehead. I try again. The pieces are mismatched, too thin on one end, too thick on another. Eyebrows raise, but no one puts me out of my misery.
“You must have a lot of siblings,” I’m told over dinner. Do I?
“No, why?”
“It’s just that… you eat very fast, like it’s going to disappear.” It might. Or maybe food is the only safe thing at this table. I know food. I trust it. It won’t let me down. Maybe make me fat. Or maybe it’s the fat kid I’ve bunched up vacuumed-sealed under my skin crawling out. But food and I, we understand each other. These faces, on the other hand…
I don’t want to offer my help because I know what my job will be, which is only slightly better than not knowing. But I do, because I always do, because something is better than nothing, do the dance of ‘oh no’s and ‘you’re a guest’ before being told, “You can wipe the dishes, then.”
Can you shit your stomach out, really?
I can see every little hair-like fiber being left behind as I wipe, and every damp streak. After two sopping dishes the towel is soaked, and frustration builds up at this job that proves to be counterintuitive and helpless every single time. I could wash them for days, but hand me a towel and I will be silent lest I groan. How do I ever know if I’ve done a satisfactory job, when the glasses are hairy and damp? 10 minutes on edge. Every sound is a fright. When am I going to be told to do it better? Flinch, wait, flinch.
Not one of my skills come to use, perhaps because I haven’t developed enough of them yet. I see the scales in their minds, weighing me against the past, seeing where I come up short. I’ve heard about the phone calls, wishing me out of the way so the past could come back to stay. I let out a sigh that raspberries. I pick out pieces of crust embedded in my shirt. Someday I’ll learn how to cut them, oil and bake ‘em. But today that is still far away, in the unknown future. Here or there, I still got a long way to go.
No matter where I am, the road stretches further with each step, and it’s still a long, long way to go.
This word looks nothing like how it sounds. I had to look it up for a second lol. Anyways, I love these french bread rolls. I am a total carb eater, so bread is my weakness. When I get older, and my metabolism starts to slow down, and I have to give up bread…it is going to be a struggle.
One day in France me and my family were walking around. In the bakeries we saw and smelled a lot of different kinds of pastries and breads, one of those was a baguette. A traditional type of bread all over the world.
Grace
He baguette the rice quickly.
Jessie
“I once met a French person who hated wine,” quipped Larry as he sat with his wife in a tasting bar.
“No kidding.”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t like baguettes, either. He said he was gluten intolerant.” Larry sipped his sample of Pinot Noir. “Reminds you of the power of stereotypes, doesn’t it?”
“Well,” scoffed his wife as she tugged at her pearl necklace, “I think we fit another stereotype perfectly.”
Belinda Roddie
makes me feel ridiculous
like poetry is halfway pointless
a joke, three quarters of a joke
and a dash of stereotype
with some offense, maybe a teaspoon
make that a tablespoon
and the recipe decides not to add up
difficult
This is a noun. It is something you eat. It is a French word
anna
Baguetta ’bout it.
Big boss betta not focaccia stealin’ any dough.
I ain’tcha Challah Back girl.
Slow your roll, Dough Boy.
If you want me to be raisin’ bread for you, then you knead to get off my buns.
That crusty rye is gonna be toast.
Gas is on but the oven’s cold. Can’t serve up if nothing gets sold.
yeastie bois: hot crossed puns
baguettes are bread, long bread. They usually have a hard exterior. Baguettes make good improvised swords and spears. They taste pretty meh but you can’t expect much from bread.
Ion
The smell of a fresh, hot baguette makes her mouth water as she licks the edge of yet another envelop. It’s almost lunch time. She has a sneaking suspicion the office manager brought in a bread basket to serve more than one role. It makes her recalculate the plan. She must be more observant of this one or risk the outcome of her original goal.
The Slip
I watch them fight over the last fresh baguette.
The defender swings it around like a sword or a bat —
knocks off the other guy’s hat. He then chases after it like a cat.
All while I wait here for these otherwise ordinary Crêpes Suzette.
Jun 12, 2015
She went to the bakery and bought one of those long french baguettes.
Back at home, it was still warm and soft and really delicious. She ate almost the whole bread with butter and jam.
It reminded her at a time when she was a little girl and she first met Tom the Stranger.
i was sitting in my balcony, waiting for him to appear. He didnt. So in that moment i realized i was waiting for something it wouldn’t never be real. His love.
I am not sad enough to write
or eat a baguette either
Id much rather have green peas
or green beans
or green peace
or just peace
in this world
can peace last forever though?
no, peace needs to be explained
worked on
she eats quietly,
“Mouse,” you ask her, “why? how could you do this?”
she stares at you, with eyes of an owl, chewing on the bread
“no, how could you do it?”
frnce is a wonderful place to live,i live in paris,i love bagguette’s they are my favorite,a omllet or egg on a french bread for breakfast created in the 1800’s is just muah. Every time someone asked me if i want bagguette i simply say wii wii
France is a wonderful place,i live in Paris France,the greatest place for touring.A baguette is a french bread that was first made the 1800’s.my favorite food is a egg or omlet served on a baguette. i was born in kentucky, my whole family is from America, we went on a mission trip
to france and we loved it there.so we moved there three years ago.
i am Lauren Arthur,14 and i live in france
I like a delicious baguette. The ones from Paris I’ll never forget. So crispy, so light, I can’t wait until Paris again.
She bit into the end of the loaf, tearing it voraciously with her teeth
“Woah slow down.”
“You slow down! I haven’t eaten all day. This is my breakfast, lunch, AND dinner.”
“Okay, okay, geez.” He threw his hands up in admitted defeat.
long thin french bread
then they clubbed one over the head
stale
it died.
good bred loveababl
breadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbreadbread
hi my name is jordan and i have the planets with me ahhhh incoming jupiter! duck
I don’t even know what this word means. I think it is some variety of bagel but I could be wrong. It’s hard to think about baguette’s and what they are when you only have sixty seconds to write so the theme of this project is more random than anything else. I don’t know what kind of bagel a baguette would be anyway. Given that the word bag is a part of it, it’s hard to imagine is
Would you like some? It is lambs liver pate. You spread it on a piece of toasted baguette and it is delicious.
Baguette. Camembert. Croissants. Wine. I couldn’t have been more cliché to meet in a French restaurant, not to mention the clichéness of the restaurant itself.
The only thing that bothered me was this constant shattering as skulls fell from the walls.
I took the regular route today. Got the usual groceries. Said hello to the same people. Visited the familiar bakery making the freshest pastries. But today, somehow, I decided to skip my usual doughnut for a baguette. I guess I’m just feeling pretty risky today.
Hmm…
Maybe I should tell him that I like him too.
The smell from the kitchen was inviting. Like every Saturday before it, I wanted to taste that crunchy, warm baguette.
take the baguette and bag it
crusty breadstick pole
dough is fun if you wag it
big ol’ boule bowl
the loaf is loafing to get dry
the rye is mischievous and wry
Monsieur, it’s such a nice day – why are you still in your office anyway? It’s past your work time. So come on out and join us for picnic!
I don’t know what it is !!
Elizabeth sighed, tossing her bad of groceries onto her counter as she walked by it. 20 dollars for some overpriced lump of bread, wonderful. But, Anabelle had insisted that she bought only the best home for when her mother came.
The long, crusted bread would prove to be my undoing.
“If you want to help, cut the bread.” There is goes, the pit of my stomach.
“Go ahead. Cut it diagonally.” This is it. My grave will read, “died of incompetency through a yeasty demise.’ Well, hopefully they leave out the ‘yeast’ bit.
I tentatively apply the knife to the crust. As if it is repellent, the crust seems to fly off, leaving the soft interior exposed and squished. Thin film of sweat on my forehead. I try again. The pieces are mismatched, too thin on one end, too thick on another. Eyebrows raise, but no one puts me out of my misery.
“You must have a lot of siblings,” I’m told over dinner. Do I?
“No, why?”
“It’s just that… you eat very fast, like it’s going to disappear.” It might. Or maybe food is the only safe thing at this table. I know food. I trust it. It won’t let me down. Maybe make me fat. Or maybe it’s the fat kid I’ve bunched up vacuumed-sealed under my skin crawling out. But food and I, we understand each other. These faces, on the other hand…
I don’t want to offer my help because I know what my job will be, which is only slightly better than not knowing. But I do, because I always do, because something is better than nothing, do the dance of ‘oh no’s and ‘you’re a guest’ before being told, “You can wipe the dishes, then.”
Can you shit your stomach out, really?
I can see every little hair-like fiber being left behind as I wipe, and every damp streak. After two sopping dishes the towel is soaked, and frustration builds up at this job that proves to be counterintuitive and helpless every single time. I could wash them for days, but hand me a towel and I will be silent lest I groan. How do I ever know if I’ve done a satisfactory job, when the glasses are hairy and damp? 10 minutes on edge. Every sound is a fright. When am I going to be told to do it better? Flinch, wait, flinch.
Not one of my skills come to use, perhaps because I haven’t developed enough of them yet. I see the scales in their minds, weighing me against the past, seeing where I come up short. I’ve heard about the phone calls, wishing me out of the way so the past could come back to stay. I let out a sigh that raspberries. I pick out pieces of crust embedded in my shirt. Someday I’ll learn how to cut them, oil and bake ‘em. But today that is still far away, in the unknown future. Here or there, I still got a long way to go.
No matter where I am, the road stretches further with each step, and it’s still a long, long way to go.
This word looks nothing like how it sounds. I had to look it up for a second lol. Anyways, I love these french bread rolls. I am a total carb eater, so bread is my weakness. When I get older, and my metabolism starts to slow down, and I have to give up bread…it is going to be a struggle.
One day in France me and my family were walking around. In the bakeries we saw and smelled a lot of different kinds of pastries and breads, one of those was a baguette. A traditional type of bread all over the world.
He baguette the rice quickly.
“I once met a French person who hated wine,” quipped Larry as he sat with his wife in a tasting bar.
“No kidding.”
“Oh, yeah. Didn’t like baguettes, either. He said he was gluten intolerant.” Larry sipped his sample of Pinot Noir. “Reminds you of the power of stereotypes, doesn’t it?”
“Well,” scoffed his wife as she tugged at her pearl necklace, “I think we fit another stereotype perfectly.”
makes me feel ridiculous
like poetry is halfway pointless
a joke, three quarters of a joke
and a dash of stereotype
with some offense, maybe a teaspoon
make that a tablespoon
and the recipe decides not to add up
difficult
This is a noun. It is something you eat. It is a French word
Baguetta ’bout it.
Big boss betta not focaccia stealin’ any dough.
I ain’tcha Challah Back girl.
Slow your roll, Dough Boy.
If you want me to be raisin’ bread for you, then you knead to get off my buns.
That crusty rye is gonna be toast.
Gas is on but the oven’s cold. Can’t serve up if nothing gets sold.
baguettes are bread, long bread. They usually have a hard exterior. Baguettes make good improvised swords and spears. They taste pretty meh but you can’t expect much from bread.
The smell of a fresh, hot baguette makes her mouth water as she licks the edge of yet another envelop. It’s almost lunch time. She has a sneaking suspicion the office manager brought in a bread basket to serve more than one role. It makes her recalculate the plan. She must be more observant of this one or risk the outcome of her original goal.
I watch them fight over the last fresh baguette.
The defender swings it around like a sword or a bat —
knocks off the other guy’s hat. He then chases after it like a cat.
All while I wait here for these otherwise ordinary Crêpes Suzette.
She went to the bakery and bought one of those long french baguettes.
Back at home, it was still warm and soft and really delicious. She ate almost the whole bread with butter and jam.
It reminded her at a time when she was a little girl and she first met Tom the Stranger.