I live in thoerical famishment,
where nothing satisfies my appetite.
I doodle grilled chickens,
my mouth crafting fountains of drool.
I dream of fluffy soufflés floating over fences.
My ribs are baby-back,
my fingers crispy and fried.
I laugh dark chocolate chuckles,
fudge syllables dancing from my mouth.
I inhale cheese steak in Philadelphia,
brisket in New Orleans.
I sleep in smokers and swim in gravy.
The world is my buffet, as I move from booth to booth, sampling each culture's creations.