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Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Morning Food

Another morning trip.
Food at six am.
Cars in other lanes moving in and out in a hazy way that gives me the creeps.
Why does this look like a movie?
Is this a movie?
In the passenger seat I sit.
I’m not hostile.
The driver is.
We brake at the drive through.
What is that? Who are you? What do you want? Just give me my order.
What was that? Why? Should I put something back? We ask.
How my packages of salt? We need the luck.
How may?
As many as it takes.
No one can forgive me for all the people I put in the ground.
It was time to leave and there was no salt in sight.


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