Latitude
30
The
pizza server makes his way around the world
to
deliver the enormous pie to my table
He
walks across the cool waters of the North Pacific Ocean
He’s
my savior from this hunger that’s inside of me
He
walks through rural China, through the rice terrace fields
The
workers of the rice terrace fields glean at my pizza
My
pizza is similar to their scallion pancakes, although vastly different
My
pizza is topped with tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, tomato sauces
Sausage,
pepperoni, and a variety of herbs top it off as well
The
pizza server passes through the snowcapped mountains of Nepal
The
hot pizza steams in contrast to the freezing environment it passes by
The
server passes though the poverty stricken villages of Pakistan
My
stomach rumbles, but I can hear the rumbling of the children’s’ stomachs louder
I
wish I could tell the sever to leave the pizza at the village, but the server
Is
so far away
The
server passes through Jordan
The
dry, arid environment stands in direct contrast
With
the greenery that I am used to in Florida
But,
there’s a beauty to it – the plateaus, and the desert sand are nearly as red as
the bubbling pepperonis
The
patches of green, fertile areas are similar to the oregano, and basil baked
into the crust of the pizza
The
people who the server passes by look at him strangely
His
hair is dyed – black
With
streaks of blonde
He
has a tattoo along his arm – a woman
His
nose is pierced – and so is his eyebrow
The
sever passes through the Nile river – again walking on water
He
passes the Great Pyramids and I am more mesmerized by them than the pizza – for
a while
They
are an ode to the ingenuity of man – something that has stood the test of time
– like pizza
The
server passes through the ancient cities of Libya
The
desert of the Sahara seems impossibly hot – almost as hot as the pizza
Although,
to the North a cool breeze passes by him – ruffling his hair
It
comes from the beaches of Libya, where golden brown beaches meet impossibly
blue oceans- the place where Geb meets Poseidon
He
passes through the deserts of Algeria, and Morocco – he seems to slow down as
pangs of hunger hit my stomach, and speed up as I watch the wonders of the next
region
He
crosses the shifting waves and currents of the North Atlantic Ocean
He
walks along the sand of Jacksonville Beach – a wave builds up behind him as
saliva builds up in my mouth
As
the wave crashes in the background he stops at my table - a drop of saliva
almost crashes from my mouth onto my resting menu
But,
as the ocean fades from view – I wipe the saliva from the corner of my mouth
----
Chance Preshia
