Things to do at a stop light
And from the seven deadly sins:
GLUTTONY
David Spiering
A vintage florescent orange GTO pulls next to me. It’s a warm day. I’m on a “vintage” 10-speed. My guts are full of meat and bread. Normally, I don’t eat much meat or bread; instead, I favor mostly rice and veggies. I like them well enough. The GTO’s pilot is an extremely fat man. His hair’s combed into a greasy grey duck ass with a huge pompadour sitting above his head-brow. His shape that I see is an incorrect rodent contour: his breasts ripple and rest on his stomach, his stomach has two distinct rippled rolls, disappearing from my sight below the car’s door line. The turkey-like skin drooping below his jaw line probably weighs five pounds. Whenever I see someone this fat, I think about death by stroke, heart attack or something therein related. Sometimes, I think my eating habits, most of the time, are linked with creating and preserving health. Longevity’s my comfort food, breathing’s my wine, waking up in the morning’s my drunkards’ high. But sometimes my orbit dips through greasy meat, sausage, commercial pizzas, and hamburgers. The light turns green, and the fat man in the fast car spins the wheels, throws sand and small stones over me. If my vision operated by digital break-up, in that way, I watched the back of the car grow smaller and smaller, square by square. To that man, speed is an artificial food type filling nature’s hunger.
