Those are fried, those foods.
They know abundantly, clearly they did not read the warning on the octane booster as it sat on top of conforming handles for easily dispensing fuel for late nights, snacks, abundantly nutritious, but for weary souls. It's all good. Well, no. It's there. It shines - brightly it beams neon, though the brand was taken up no doubt at midday, when doughnuts had been plenty, and counting was not done - so to speak. It was I who fed the loss, or the gain? It was beautiful food. With no one to eat it's not really complete, not wasted, but there all the same. Not a loss if I do; but potatoes as those can make for plenty of energy, which is needed by all. I won't leave myself from that line. It is accepting, these sights - for money is all it takes for great gains of insight, of daily intake that knows no bounds - for five minutes, ten, fifteen. Describe your malady that cannot be solved by cards drawn, chosen paid for, then smiling nicely. It was nice to have a nice day. It's no loss when athletes imbibe, when TV is on and consumes calories by the mile, they run track, it takes but minutes to watch, as calories drawn comf0rting, remarkably hungry pictures. There is more, you know that you are always welcome here to make what of it you can. If feeding, eating is not your lot. Perhaps servicing the beautiful sign? © 2013 Larry Ingram
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Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
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