A tumbled spill of noodles and meat orbs
lies before me just off the sidewalk
as I step to class. Next to it, french fries
bleeding ketchup and a hunk of bread
aloof like a shy boy at a rock concert.
Why such a combination at 11 am?
We are all spaghetti messes really, inside
or out, so spotting two unrelated meals
in a food-puddle on the dead grass
is really just par for the course, like it or not.

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