victual

Someone suggests squirrels are in the back of the café. Not as food but preparing.

Your brother, when getting a food handler’s license to dispense pickles, learned of anthrax and how to protect vittles.

Is privilege being able to have decorative logs in and out. I open a two-year-old packet of jerky. A small but thick white mold develops along the complimentary nuts.

How many hours can the food be left and still trusted. Into a baggie car trip.

Sometimes hunger is so deep it is a soft pain, perhaps the blood sugar too reduced.

Your hand low on my fat. No vegetable shortening. The meat kind or dairy tale endings.

You will sound like my mother if you question my habits. Let me treat you chicken cordon bleu. Can you imagine if blankets melted, how much we would need to shower when we wake. Either way we do, glisten.