"the autumn whisper's rustle against the leaves,
that was nothing, not compared to my fast food,
the crunch of the onion rings in my teeth, more delicious each time," I said,
then came a confused stare,
I couldn't blame her (stupid girl)

I woke up that day with a numbness in my arms
or this was hers, I'd remember
and the satisfactions were mine
"I love oranges," I tell her, "the tear of its skin against my teeth is fantastic."
"shut up," she told me. o, tomorrow she will love them, I tell myself,
and the burst of the juice on her tongue, the brilliance of the senses
but the mind is sore from the effort,
so I stared at the road and bathed in its blur
or the outline of every shape,
then when the radio vibrated the change in the car
I had felt more awake