I feed it feeds me

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