All anyone needs is a kitchen.

 I vow, when I roll the three individual quarters
 through the cold black vending machine
 lit up like a shop in Tokyo
 that when I have a place of my own,
 I will make my food.  Keep heavy mason jars
 of flour and sugar and vegetable oil
 in lines in the pantry under the stairs
 mix the syrupy batter with
 eggs from the white fridge.
 Pur my golden glop into a nonstick pan
 recatngle, stamped with long cavities
 instead of round ones,
 with Washignton's head and side ridges;
 (my pan for the moment)
 I won't  wrap my food in plastic
 like this Twinkie.
 it will sit out in the breakfast window sun.
 The world will be my table,
 and I will eat
 when I have a kitchen.
 All anyone needs is a kitchen.


-Citron