Seconds

You reach into the bowl past the reminites of last nights salad floating and still recognizable like decayed green sails in still water.
You grab a hold if it with your bare hands.
It is firmer then you thought and cool in a way that puzzles you a little bit.
You would think that something that was just in your body would be warmer but that water was real cold.
You clench it in your fist and it turns to mush in your hand right before you throw your sink at the rest room mirror.
A self portrait.
Picture by numbers using just one color.
You must have had corn last night you think as little yellow pellets slide down and out of the lump on the mirror.
I wonder if it still tastes like corn you think as you disappear into the kitchen and return with a plate.
Laughing and crying as you scrape the lumps into a pile destined for the microwave.
Your transformation into a beast waiting on the timer to run its course.
Burning shit has a way of working its way into your walls into the molecules of the paint.
No scrubbing of it will ever persuade anyone that anything but an animal ever lived here.
A smell that will go on long after anything else I will have ever created.
Long after I have forgotten this taste in my mouth.
I will remember I would rather have these seconds, then ever be together again with you.

** found this one in a drawer when I was cleaning yesterday and it made me chuckle..lol It also made me wonder if anyone has ever done a seventh generation hot carl..lol