what a meal

it’s soup!

what a meal!

he’s gone by the wayside
no sense that rhythm left his soul
abundant in the nows that say nothing
he walks in strange appliance
the door of his freezer ajar
as he melts into infinity.

no food in the pantry
canned dogs howl at his smile
he burped himself into an orange
while the remainder of his being souped
the noodles of yesterday’s thoughts
as he smiled into the napkin of his youth.