Free Food! Free Food!

Food has been locked up. She sits barricaded behind pressure sealed plastic, sturdy restaurant doors and locked freezers. As I peer in at her she gazes back with sad longing eyes. She and I are meant to be together but money keeps me at arms length. The cash register patrols the parapet, only granting access to those who have an in with U.S. currency. I sit on the outside; empty pocketed, empty stomached and heavy hearted. Food has been wrongly imprisoned for my darling has done nothing wrong. Her captivity is cruel and unusual punishment for her as well as I. My nerves and frustration were at a tipping point when I took to the streets, chanting irrepressibly “Free Food! Free Food!” My anguished pleas thankfully garnered a response from the warden. The desperation in my voice tugged at his stomach strings and he conceded to let my darling food take day trips to see me; free of her normal financial confines. At my first conjugal visit with free food she came dressed in neat Gourmondo wrapping. At first I merely stared at her, dumbfounded to finally be seeing food free of her normal monetary cage. But after my initial daze wore off I pulled her close to me, pealed back her tidy exterior and took to worshipping every last morsel of her. Unfortunately our time together was brief; leaving me unsatisfied, grasping for my next fix of her. Relief came only days later and this time dearest food came to me clad in Pad Thai. Unshackled and uninhibited she thrilled me with her exotic zest. Our visit was once again brief but the heat from her embrace lingered as a pleasant reminder. In our most recent moneyless rendezvous my sweetie pie’s pizza pie ensemble aroused Italian fervor that had long been repressed. Alimenti, il mio cuore batte per te.