The Gallows

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

All Star Sandwich Bar

kimchi, immodest, lavished upon this mouth-beast, while koreans weep*

Danish Pastry House

fresh off the crumby blade; sparks of ginger a stealth stowaway

Bintliff’s American Cafe

lust, feasting upon the morning after; pink flesh goads, succumbs, endures

Paseo

pork-stained fingertips, tracing the slathered urban plight, hot off the press