Thin Sandwiches

thin sandwiches we make thin sandwiches in thin times we don’t have much but the rust of the engine and the dust of an old house, I hear her call me in like yesterday my inner eyes wade into the seas of once was, I can taste these thin sandwiches this thin meat with thin mayo and dried mustard, in time this becomes my history, we make thin sandwiches n thin times we don’t have much but the rest of the engine and the rambling of this old house, in times of few these sandwiches thin were relished, my eyes lost in the distance the distance of memory, I taste this bitter-thin imagery, into my history, it fades a memory, a memory not really needed or wanted but here nevertheless.