Maybe it was a silly idea, but he was determined
he wanted to bite the hand that fed him
because he was sick of rice crackers.
He hated the bloody things;
they were tasteless, crispless, and useless.
Where was the fun in eating rubbish like this?
But he supposed he had to endure this torture for the rest of his natural life.
The hand came back again with another plateful of the doleful things.
Great globs of polystyrene stuck in his throat;
great globs of indigestible blah choking him
and making him crazy with the lack of excitement.
Where was the FAT?
Where were the nasty chemicals?
Where was the oozing taste of bad things?
Oh, he longed for bad things…
He wasn’t allowed to eat anything nice.
All night he dreamed of twisting and turning dishes
with FAT and CALORIES!
© Peter Rowe 2010
Written with speech pathologist, Alice Owen