After seeing two more pizzas named

for various states of grandmothers,

we had far too many questions

for our overstretched waitress.

But with names like 

“Sexy Grandma”, “Drunken Grandma”, and 

a general Grandma pizza style,

we sought the tale of what had gone so wrong

that pizzas all over the city

bore the details of your transgressions.

Was it a night or weekend laden with the fun

that everyone had cautioned you against reaching,

or was the decision for this label

the sum total of a life lived outside of the lines?

We never received an answer about the history,

partially because our stomachs craved answers concerned 

more with whats than whys,

but we could tell that grandma was deep enough 

to require a pan style canvas to tell her story,

and we could tell that we would search for her again

at the next place lucky enough to remember her.