Flights of Fancy

It was a time like this, I remember

Dull as ever, juice of life’s sweetness dry

I was seated beside my kinsman

Drinking from the cup of sorrow

He complained of hunger-pangs

Said that if he won’t bite anything

Two nights from now

Then, as a duty, I shall bury his carcass

I offered him a life-saving stratagem

“It’s all about the mind, this hunger thing”

His once sunken eyes glared and glowed

“Think that you ate your fill. Think that your meals are timed.

Program it in the mind and you’ll bid farewell to hunger”

The glow faded and the eyes

Retreated to their cubbyholes

“Kinsman,” I went on, “look at the rich bloke. Matter of fact, I’ve seen them nibble at fried chicken, pay the bill and dash to a business function…”

“Strange thing about that?”

“Of course the man manages a pot-belly. Credit to positive thinking.”

My discourse hung suspended loosely

Between the man’ s ear-hole and ear-drum

Anyway, my line of thinking

Earned me this hellish scar

From my kinsman

Lurking in the shadows of hollowness.

C) Lorot Salem 2010