Monday, April 18, 2016

EATING AWAY

Twelve straight years
of strict

training, and he 
still never thinks

twice about 
skipping it 

because it's nice 
out or remotely

considers
attending when it's 

gloomy; nor does he
feel particular-

ly 
lucky under 

the vast, free
wheeling-but-

functional-
looking

networked capillaries 
of pale stars 

(which he 
still sees 

whenever he 
accidentally 

strays beyond
the hedonistic

gaze of the
city) or

even the least
bit chilly

and dim-
witted 

in the cool 
shards of light-

punctured 
darkness underneath

an apple 
tree. But—curiously,

each time that he 
walks past

an outdoor table 
which is empty—he still finds

that he
must actively 

suppress 
an unconscionable

urge—to produce silver
and set it 

for two 
people—and just

sit there 
for a good forty-

five minutes 
or so,

even though 
he assumes—both

that nobody
is coming

and that, if someone ever
did, he'd be

far too spooked—to 
consume anything.

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