"You got supper waiting?" The belly cramp neck-high, approached the threshold of shark-like hunger empty-handed like a head of lettuce spinach-green under a soft-boiled cloud in a grease-hot world. Sticky fingers trap donut despair, plunging crumbled bacon into cold coffee creamed. Tragic tomatoes get smashed ketchup colored still warm when all human organs heartburn. Roast beef, then steak, Roast pork like a fish. apples, pineapple slice eggs, elbow-to-elbow, finger-covered chickens squeeze melted cheese, sweet and sour chops chew gummy rice, shredded crumbs spill crustless down the drainpipe of the mincing factory. A big fat wisecrack: unless you icebox and beat your vacant mouth animal instinct can swallow a civil tongue. |
oil, mixed, collage on paper, 20" x 28"
JAMES W JOHNSON