I Like

I like food. The pieces which are like squares, but also circles. I like food. I set the tray on my lap. In the living room. Just me. I like the headlights. Shining through, but no one is coming. Just the neighbors. They are home. I wish there was someone is my driveway. But no one exists. Headlights are all around. That’s all we have. I like the bowl of soup. Spilled. Spilled and I live alone. Broken, destroyed, alone. The bowl is broken on the floor. So I picked up a mop and broom. That’s all I remember. On Tuesday. That’s all that really happened.