I really should start
dinner. But husband’s gone, so
I’ll just blog and starve.
Starving writer
1
I really should start
dinner. But husband’s gone, so
I’ll just blog and starve.
Kmart opens at
4am. Outlet mall at
midnight. Who needs sleep?
Post-tryptophan, we
watch Forrest Gump and digest
the day’s memories.
Don’t count calories.
Savor silken pumpkin, tart
cranberries. Taste joy.
Tempting smells – so strong
they nearly satiate the
appetite – drift by.
We are all in search
of the quote that defines us.
Self in sentence form.
Why this ache, an itch
no hand can scratch, a splinter
no tweezer can pull?
Times like these, a hot
cup of tea, a soft blanket
is all that’s needed.
A blowtorch melting
a block of ice from within,
pain made transparent.
They’ll watch football. We’ll
cook. Men and women. Hunters
and gatherers still.