Thursday, January 15, 2009


Eating Out

Lately I’ve been feeling quite alive. That wasn’t the case when I first got out of rehab. I was quite a mess then (like the others) trying to put the million little pieces of my broken up life back together. I rarely showed emotion, I occasionally smiled, and I never ever showed interest in eating. Then along came this spoon. Hopping along, rather. And she carried something in her hair. Something cold and white and absolutely creamy. She pushed it into my mouth, and I just let it be there. Didn’t swallow it immediately. Just let it stand there and allowed it to take its own course. Which was a melty, rather sensual way of giving in to my warmth. I enjoyed it. And the spoon hopped back to her tray. The next day she sent the fork to me. He was wrapped in a turban of spaghetti which he promptly unraveled into me. Slither, slather, gulp, the onslaught of carbs lulled me into a potato’ey shell, that I refused to leave for the rest of the night. The next day I waited. And waited. And waited. No spoon. No fork. If you have any leftovers could you please put them in here. Ya, right there, on the mud, away from the stalk please. Thank you.

(On one of the plants at Café Fresco’s)

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