Hungry uncle. |
Well he shows up each Thanksgiving at the turkey oven door. He’s an uncle from the country with a food mantra of, More. He’s a lanky drink of water with a stomach for all time... so he gnaws a leg, lots of taters too; I wait for sans mastication yet it seems he’s never through. He’s a walking talking urge of appetite ready to add another heaping helping. As we pass the white meat platter he attaches with his claws; (it’s an incident at table with oft little seen in-laws.) Then the turkey slides on off the plate as if a tidal wave... and he wolfs it down, it creates a buzz; he sucks vittles up into his maw much like a Hoover does. He’s a walking talking urge of appetite ready to add another heaping helping. Thus his wife across the table in embarrassment chides, “Jim!” (In the realm of table manners hunger renders porch lights dim.) Yet he grins as if canaries call and scoops bean casserole... then he smacks his lips, and he rolls his eyes; the desserts abiding on the sink pervade his hungry eyes. He’s a walking talking urge of appetite ready to add another heaping helping. 36 Lines Writer’s Cramp 11-27-14 |