Sitting at a dirty lunch table with a sticky top, I ate some part of a Quizno’s sub,
increasingly unappetizing with every reticent bite,
gross with the texture of wet vegetables, and
mushy with a mustard more like mucus.
Half-finished, it met its sad fate
with a "fleump" to the bottom
of an over-stuffed trash can.
So much for the starving kids in Haiti,
Or the other ones in China,
Who may just feel the trembles of my bad-turned karma
in the trails of a frozen yogurt,
flowing like icy lava through my veins.
And I absorbed all of it,
even after the first failure--
a mere drop in the bucket.