The Last French Fry

This one perhaps
will make the difference.
This one, possibly,
will change it all.
This plate of fried goods
may be the one to finally fill
all the emptiness within.
Something must complete me;
let it be this french fry.

I have been hungry
for so long
looking for the thing
that will enter the hole
drowning it
with some glorious warm goo
of joy or happiness
– something that will take my hole
and make me solid.
Complete.
Resolved.

There is some snack
– maybe dried snake niblets –
that will make my soul fertile
where now it lies barren
a delectable delight
after which
I need never eat again,
since I will have consumed everything
worth having.

I will find that food
and enjoy the final fry
even if I must eat my way
through the store
one trough at a time.

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