My life could be measured out in pizza slices.
When I was younger, I wanted to be
A “pizza chef,” simple, but somehow grand.

Fast forward a few years: frozen pizzas
Were family dinner staples, filling
Our home with Italian aromas,

Or something like it. In college, we ate
Cafeteria pizza, covered in
Yesterday’s sides (or so I assumed). Still

Good. In seminary, I ate too much
Cheap pizza at youth group, feeding students
And myself as I learned to serve them more

Than Papa John’s. I discovered deep dish
While looking for direction, made my way
Through darkness with the help of local pies

And some Red Barons. Some nights, that and an
Episode of Chef’s Table fed my soul.
Tonight, I’ll share a slice with my wife, and
Savor every bit of this good life.

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Photo by Jordon Kaplan on Unsplash

The first line is a reference to a line in “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T. S. Eliot.