A poem I started eating because I was hungry
I tried writing a prose poem.
I began writing this poem in the morning, but I was too hungry to focus.
Frustrated, I went to the pantry and fridge and both were overflowing. I ran
anyway. Midway through, my stomach growled with desire like an aimless
streetcar as I dug in my hydration vest for food, and gulfed a bar. My time
ended up being minutes off my goal pace. While cooling down stretching, I
opened up Hinge and checked my likes — zero. After, I went to my virtual
appointment with my therapist. At night I tried to sleep, but I was too hungry. Then
I took a bite of this poem. All my thoughts became swimming salmon
jumping through the river in my mind. Soft pinkish flesh melted
in my mouth. All the miles I ran tasted like striated jerky. The flavour complemented
the savory arial eleven point font. All the profiles I looked through became pesky gummy
bears, that went into hibernation between my teeth. I had to floss those out along with the periods
and commas. The therapy conversations tasted like elaborate tangled udon noodles
that I had to blow on, to cool down before taking a bite. With my hunger satisfied,
I looked for something to quench my thirst.
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