Save a stolen slice of pecan pie
Beeps and clicks down the halls of coughs and splutters from them all. White on white with beds to match, soft tokens of food all under wraps. Wait too long or turn away and a visitor comes to eat the tray.
Spaghetti and beans and a roll of bread. Quick, easy and serviceable serve of carbs and veggies. A jug of not apple juice sits pretty close on the same table as a cup of mandarins. They can't speak even Cantonese, so they may very well be tangerines.
Short to last, a pecan pie in the repast. Sweet gooey solid centre. Nuts and base say nothing of the inner world around. Not of soap, not of bleach, not of anything more than the taste over teeth.
Crumble sweet a dessert treat
Cold is no hurdle to taste as the dull throb of never-ending hunger leaves but the tiniest of crumbs on each of the plates.
Carton of Southern Belle washes the night down in a building full of open-back paper gowns.
Saturday, 8 March 2008
Talking about:
» Talkin' 'bout your Generation - Spare the room, spare the bed
« Friends Corner Bookstore on Main Street
Previous entries on Nothing
- Snow way to wake up
- Spooks come out to play after dark
- One versus the many for Amnesty
- San Francisco captures many things
- Tracking down the non-existent
- Death is a bird with nowhere to fly
