Mustard or Sauerkraut?

"Yellow Submarine" sang The Beatles. Then there are Subway, the Philly sub and the submersible that can go 20,000 leagues under the sea to the Lost Continent of Atlantis. Maybe that’s where Malaysia 370 finally landed. Floyd Collins became lost in the subterranean  tunnels of the Mammoth Cave. Jersey Mike’s is the latest, particularly if you are looking for a hero, a wily Odysseus who will help you to navigate your appetites so you won’t be lured by the Sirens of gluttony. You won’t be triggered by that famous Popeye sandwich that an antsy patriot once killed for? You shouldn’t die (non-sequitur-ed). Subs are food for thought particularly if you are on the couch and dealing with unconscious fantasies that lurk beneath the surface, the subtext that defies the kind of simplistic either/or categories like “mustard or sauerkraut?” proposed by the hot dog vendor in front of The Met (Goldfinch territory-edit.) protected from sun (Daedalus--ed?) by his blue and yellow Sabrett umbrella.

read "The Wasteland" by Francis Levy, The East Hampton Star

and also read "Punk" by Francis Levy, Vol.1 Brooklyn