I walked in and the chatter ceased and so to cut through the miasma of my situation I introduced myself and then someone said, I smell fish.
Tagged: Food (993)
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The thin boy with fat toes desires the hot dog loving vegan. So very much. For the trangression. And destroy the bonds of a modern morality.
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On foggy street corners in quaint European capitals, spies huddle in their trenchcoats, bemoaning their sex lives, eating poorly. So poorly.
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This is your reality and not mine. Who decides what really happened? Our awareness is limited by experience. Yes, I ate the last french fry.
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Once, we were an annoyingly happy couple. Car commercial happy. But soon we were running on fumes. Especially after eating her famous beans.
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We sit down to eat and the food evokes strong memories. I can hear my mother singing. I feel her presence. This is a complicated meal, I say.
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She knew he was a chef and that’s why she asked him if he braised with soda and he said, That’s a good idea, and so she called him a foodie.
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You bite into a burger as a passel of joggers run by and one of them’s cute, but you’ve got juice on your chin and it’s a damned fine burger.
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I sure can eat, I boasted as she took my empty plate, and she said, I bet you can, and she winked and I felt a twinge, but it was heartburn.
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I slipped the meat to the dogs. She filled my plate with more. You’re killing me, I told her. The dogs started to howl. And I shat my pants.
