Sipping with his left for a change,
Young Jeb reflected that what this
world needs is a gastronomy at day-
break which can help us forget the
turquoise plastic furniture at the
finger-pinching cupboards, wilted
flowers dripping on their ground
of laminated glass; the cold, con-
gealed, sclerotic eggs, a process-
ed patent fruit fizz flattening in
its plastic cistern, the incense
sticks insensible of the porridge
without a spoon, as airbrushed abs
reflect on their revulsion at a pa-
per bag's infusion of his mug, for-
mica brooding darkly on his tummy.
Sure, he reasoned, they're all be-
ing poisoned in Flint, but there's
no need to let it reach what the
Party likes to call, the general
population.
Antoine-Louis Barye
1796 - 1875
Eagle with its prey
undated
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