Hunger

On the road, everything is of substance, so let’s eat! Let’s eat the dirt, the rocks, the foliage, topped by the distant clouds. The landscape is already eaten. Goats in the meadow, birds on the wing, the very wind is satiated. The farmer has eaten his rocks. The curate has eaten the body. The road is a long baguette. Distance—a scrolling menu of delights. I’m tired, my stomach is tired, and I’m still hungry. The effort to overcome my hunger would require sustenance. When I close my eyes, everything is closer. I eat sweet time and patience, dripping with honey.