Hunger Report # 117
It was when he stopped the car
and shouted that I could get out
and walk the rest of the way home,
there on Mohawk Street, which was miles away,
that I started craving cream cheese.
Cream cheese with bacon and tomato
to be exact He bought it a couple of days ago
to eat with the dozen bagels.
Cream cheese, smoke, and salt on Triscuits.
That’s how I wanted to eat it,
crunching them like bones between my teeth.
His, mine, the bones of our contention,
each slathered with his love
to help me choke them down.