by Jesse Loren

Hostess, the company that makes Twinkies, Ho-Ho’s, and Ding-Dongs, is going under, possibly today. It’s overdue Twinkies, don’t let the calorie counter hit you on the way out.

Consider, Twinkies were originally made in the 1930s with banana cream filling; later, due to war-time banana shortages, the filling lost the bananas. This chemical wonderland of confectionary junk bonds parading as food is almost over. Who will miss it?

Twinkie was my karaoke stage name — quivering sponge cake on the outside, creamy filling on the inside. If it deserved an apology, Twinkie did it. But, I have grown up since then; it’s time to say goodbye.

Twinkie is a bootstrap story, making something, invention, and peddling it to the masses for money without consequence. It’s truly an American love story. It’s like red states, and flags waving, a lot of Honey Boo Boo, and “spoons don’t make me fat…” It’s a meme of empty calories, obesity, and pastel stretch pants during Saturday’s visiting hours. The cream stuffed, yellow cake death cube deserves to die. In memorial, I wrote this poem.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Twinkie

Among twenty chilly centuries
The only lasting thing
Was the sponge of the Twinkie

I was of three minds
Like a store
in which there are three Twinkies.

The creamy center oozed in the Dallas heat.
A small part dripped on those pants of mime.

A man and a woman are one.
A man, a woman and a cupcake
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer
The beauty of convection
Or the beauty of fried confection.
The cellophane wrapped Twinkie
Or just after.

Light filled the white faces
Of the Mid State Fair.
The coffers of the Twinkie
Fried to and fro.
The mood
Lulled in the shadowy pools
Of indecipherable delight.

Think oh killers of men,
Why do you imagine the golden defense?
Do you not see wholeness
Drips on the feet
Of the men about you?

I know legends of
Urban proportions,
That the Twinkie is involved
In all that I know.

When the Twinkie
Has gone down low and out of sight,
It marks the end of
Corn syrup and sadness.
At the sight of the last wrapper
The sponge cake of stabilized fat
Emulsed with chemical eternity
Will cry out sharply.

Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection
Has found her Hostess.
The death knell rings out
Like birds unburdening
Their shadows.

The river is moving.
Fried Twinkies with raspberry
Must be swirling.

It was evening every morning.
It was daylight
And it was dark
The Twinkie sat
On the timeless shelf.