I’ve been hungry since I moved to New York.
-That is a fact
Since my morning meal on my family fare first class flight from Miami, I have been hungry. I eat. I cook. I steal my roommates chips when they aren’t home. I am hungry.
Not since my time in the homes of the people that had sex to make me have I been stuffed (I say homes because my parents are divorced. I am a statistic. Also, note to self, do not use the word stuffed in a sentence when speaking about my parents sex life).
I just wish I could eat with the vigor I once did while eating meatloaf leftovers on my fathers couch. I desire to wake up to my mother telling me I’m to skinny and she will cook me food all day. I woke up today to someone blowing their nose and the smell of burnt hair. Oh how things have changed. No matter how much I eat or how much I cook, I’m hungry for more food. Maybe food is really a metaphor for my dreams? Maybe I’m just too poor to afford to eat more than one sandwich at a time? Do you have a peanut butter? Do you have tuna fish? I’ll eat it if you don’t.
Wondering when my ribs will start to show,
Daniel Dickey
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