Grand Spam

Not every processed pork product has risen to the level of Spam. Your pimiento loaf, your head cheese--they just can’t compare to the icon that Spam has become. It’s now also a computer term, usually referring to cyber junk mail. Spam (the meat) is also endlessly discussed on the Internet. So it’s no surprise that that’s where we found these haiku poems. These loving tributes demonstrate the depth of feeling and devotion to the little blue can:

Blue can of steel/ What promise do you hold?/ Salt flesh so ripe . . . Twist, pull the sharp lid/ Jerks and cuts me deeply but/ Spam, aah, my poultice . . . Oh, tin of pink meat/ I ponder what you may be:/ Snout or ear or feet? . . . Old man seeks doctor/ “I eat Spam daily,” he says./ Angioplasty . . .