Consumption Stories

"I'm hungry," I tell her.

She doesn't answer,

just gives a knowing glance at my stomach.

I appreciate her willingness to listen;

Not many humans have that capacity.

I tell her that lately I've been thinking of a pinwheel: the one that you spin

and all the colors blur together.

One slice of the wheel is the girl I just met.

She represents all that I have wanted recently

in a carousel.

Her eyes follow me

and her music draws me

and we are enraptured

in each other's soothing voices

and consumption stories.

Her Japanese eyes tell me that this is special.

And I am hungry.

And I tell her I want to go somewhere unusual.

Another slice of the wheel: my students.

Young men and women

and humans somewhere in between

and they make the strangest and loveliest of movements.

One young man is shaking,

his emotions too much for the whole of him.

One is rumbling,

with a hum heard by herself

and maybe no other.

One is sleeping, literally,

his head on his desk,

listening to tunes neither one of us

hear in the daytime.

There are other slices of the wheel:

poetry,

the purr of a kitten,

dreams of a cleaner, more organized bedroom.

-dreams of having someone with me

in my bedroom.

It goes on.

"I am hungry," I tell my willing accomplice.

"I want to go somewhere special."

I'm hungry, I think I tell her.

I want all the colors.

I want to consume

Everything