Crave

On Thanksgiving Day you expect to eat Turkey. Maybe ham, a bit of gravy, dark and gray and murky. But at the home of vegans you go to eat, and sadly you sulk in your vegany seat. Before you a table is sparse with collared greens, raw carrots, and kimchi. To yourself you call it a farse and frown with a face all bitchy. Out the door you go, into the snowy cold that blows. You reach into your pocket and reveal something succulent, but just then comes your cousin Ralph who calls out and you turn truculent. 'I-is that a burger?' he whines, and you hiss. He retreats with wild eyes, leaving you to dine in bliss.

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