A Minor History of Potato Chips

By TINA CANE 

Ray Liotta was listening     to tapes of Henry Hill talking     through a mouth 

full of potato chips     to the FBI     around the same time I     high and hunched 

over a bowl of Lucky Charms     was listening to my father     lecture me on sex     

at 2 o’clock in the morning         home early from his shift     to have the talk     

his friends had urged him to give     pacing and waving his hands     I have to be 

a mother and a father he said     as he spoke of love     the importance of it     

when it came to     

                               rolling my eyes     crunching the hard marshmallow clovers     

like so many potato chips     I tried to muffle my hunger for other things     

a new bike     a bigger room     better boys     and since I didn’t get any of them     

what I really want now     is for Ray Liotta     to be writing this poem for me     

to be reading this poem to you     for him to say     how my dad said     

It’s alright roll your eyes     Love will be more important 

than you think     Especially for you 

 

Tina Cane is founder/director of Writers-in-the-Schools, RI, and serves as poet laureate of Rhode Island. Her books include Once More with Feeling, Body of Work, and Year of the Murder Hornet. Her novel-in-verse for young adults, Alma Presses Play, was released in 2021.

[Purchase Issue 25 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

A Minor History of Potato Chips

Related Posts

whale sculpture on white background

September 2025 Poetry Feature: Earth Water Fire Poems, a Conversation

LISA ASAGI
"We and the whales, / and everyone else, / sleep and wake in bodies / that have a bit of everything / that has ever lived. Forests, oceans, / horse shoe crabs, horses, / orange trees in countless of glasses of juice, / lichen that once grew / on the cliffsides of our ancestors, / deepseated rhizomes, and stars. // Even stars are made

Hitting a Wall and Making a Door: A Conversation between Phillis Levin and Diane Mehta

DIANE MEHTA and PHILLIS LEVIN
This conversation took place over the course of weeks—over daily phone calls and long emails, meals when they were in the same place, and a weekend in the Connecticut countryside. The poets share what they draw from each other’s work, and the work of others, exploring the pleasures of language, geometric movement, and formal constraint.

Anna Malihot and Olena Jenning's headshots

August 2025 Poetry Feature: Anna Malihon, translated by Olena Jennings

ANNA MALIHON
The girl with a bullet in her stomach / runs across the highway to the forest / runs without saying goodbye / through the news, the noble mold of lofty speeches / through history, geography, / curfew, a day, a century / She is so young that the wind carries / her over the long boulevard between bridges