Leftovers
“First
Vulture Rights,”
you say
as you root
through
the fridge
opening
each lid,
examining
your prize—
tasty
morsels, dull tidbits,
or something
on the verge
of expiring.
It’s
pretty nice, though,
to
not worry about mold
or
throwing things away.
And
then there are times
when
I bring home
a take-out
container
from
lunch out with a friend
and you
ask if I want it
and I
lie and say no
and get
some kind of
saintly
satisfaction
for making
a small sacrifice
to feed
your pleasure.
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