Ode To Meals


Subsuming and devouring I wrest
a burger from the hands of
slaves, and now, as if a dream,
or a man from dream but
flesh, I rip and tear and consume
an ignoble lasagna friend. Tree
tops erode and give way to cloud,
the Colonel turns and flicks
his wings, a Wetherspoons
emerges from the gloom and weeps.
How to exist, be, eat, inhabit,
a roast chicken fashioned to a gauntlet.
Beginning now a silent vigil I wait
in banquets long defeated,
a private sense of kissing
bound with an interplanetary feeling.
I love chips, and I love ketchup sauce.
I eat big beef and carbs and sour;
and think of you elsewhere, charming,
overcome, and less dour – then I
remember how we slept together,
sated,
having dined another day on London wine,
on fish and bread and something kind.

by Col. Baldwüllz

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