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.

