Suppose You Were a Black Hole

Every single act that can be countable
presupposes the probability
of an immutable singularity
rendering moot the point
that only one possibility can possibly matter

So it is with diet
diet being what you choose to eat
So it is with hot dogs
and so it is with me

There is nothing in the fridge or pantry
that I care a fig to eat
and nothing in the food stores
and nothing in the restaurants neither
that generate a single G of gastronomical pull

 Hot dogs dictate my event horizon
Nothing else will do
Hot dogs plumped and drippy
from my toaster oven
Sometimes three, sometimes two
Lapping over white bread
Laced with yellow mustard
Washed down with a citrus drink
when I have it and when I don’t,
a diet coke will do

 Hot dogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner
though perhaps with dinner I’ll have chips,
the kind you find in convenience stores
for folks jut in it for the salt and crunch

 So coaches, friends and dieticians
save your collective breaths
What you eat is what sustains you

So I’m eating hot dogs for awhile
Eating hot dogs for that extra mile
Self assured that any other sack of taste
would simply be a cosmic waste