While looking at the sky Abraham became aware
Aware that it wasn’t he that was gazing but his urges
He stood he walked he groped in the dark
And found sought after coffee stalls
Hidden in smoky hazes that had been legislated into refined breweries
He began to cook
To glaze to roast, to fry to singe
He incorporated his soul into lambs
His fortitude into crackling
Then he walked into a cinema and it all changed
A movie a scene a picture of beauty
His next fried egg was to runny
His pork was burnt like a sun roasted mule
He quit he ran dagger in hand to the stall opposite
There she was the fig delicatessen
He gazed upon her figs and the smoke became real and entwined him within it
And when it dissipated Abraham was gone
A constellation is all that remains
Of Abe her fig and the lost memories that swelled
Unrequited taste buds are a killer
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