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Aug 2010
My stomach's wallet breaks the pocket's seam.
I eat what I see,
I can't help with tasting everything.
The grapes and the burgers,
the peanuts and bananas.

I'm consuming as the wild beast does;
the vine grows empty and I will growl,
moving on to the next new field.
But the cheeses here are magnificent,
I'll keep coming back for just another slice of it.

These warm chocolate drippings
on mountains of cold cream
melt into gooey cookie crust;
Me and my flag stand ready for the adventure
right up and back down the mudslide.

But my buds are changing in a strange wind
and I am the wild dancer in this hurricane.
The strawberries are dipping into whipped cream
until the bowl grows empty,
refilling it with oats and milk.

My tongue lives forever in this moment,
leaping this way and that,
the day's cheetah is fast for its slab of chewy beef jerky
and afterward,
the night's panther is face forward in the wild fruits.

I pray for the day this dessert morsel is the last,
but alas,
my hunger ravages like a princess for her pony.
The king will no longer resist her screams for another stable
and I will ride this black mare forever.
Written by
Ryan Patrick Walsh
958
 
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