feast

Like like like
who woulda
thunk it that
the thunder
would be so
mean: that
the prodigal
son would
ever have a
dream beyond
himself, that
he would accept
a feast if it
were brought
to his feet.
Like he
doesn't eat
meat.
So a feast
of carrots
& onions
& celery
might
deliver you
from this
trap of
scarred
celibacy.