Friday, July 13, 2007

Poem #194 of 365

i don’t know who is the more
flippant with food...the kid
who stuffs the defrosted
frozen meal, warmed-up
just enough to call it cooked,
into a bag and shoves it
at you through a shop window,

or you as you grab it away,
toss it into the passenger
seat as you rev into drive,
and then tear off the wrapping,
to stuff the tasteless product into
your never-satiated mouth.

when these actions summon
a burp, you pronounce yourself full,
you call yourself fed.

flippant with food.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

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