something about breakfast and meals and food in the marvin trilogy. upside down like a ladle pouring soup. the oldest drinks wine, the baby is wailing. drunk and self indulgent. marvin always eats the finest breakfast in town. my stomach aches. some chatter and some gruel, make me wanna drool, try to make me hungry. i need my breakfast now! she’s an actor from the old school and a lousy chef, i don’t want miracles from heaven just some eggies over spinach over toast. she can’t cook but have you seen her milk a cow? life is rotten. when i say breakfast i mean food. a breakfast over sugar. please drink your tea before it’s cold. pass the sugar, please. i hate his food. is he better than banana? the throwing up, the shame, the silent prayers, the nausea. i got my breakfast, the likes of which you’ve never seen. wash my face then drink beer. then i eat. and jessie blew her meal. same folk acting like from different cultures as they chew their food completely out of sync. we offer food and drinks. we all eat as one. i loves the way they cook linguine. now to make bread, loosen your glands. he filled my coats with candies and notes. i have something rotten. as i put the steak in, i bring home the bacon. love me, feed me. see how quickly he sours. what i love i devour. he makes me smile a lot, especially at mealtime. late for dinner late again. whizzers supposed to always be here making dinner. chop chop chop chop. i was supposed to make the dinner. make it pretty on his plate. have it ready, make it tasty. let me turn on the gas. banana carrot surprise. such a romantic table, knives in place, lots of space to spread out and eat. gourmet version of chicken marengo, took me all day, i’ll say it was worth the time, i lie. i don’t eat at all in times like these. someone’s brought your dinner, someone bringing you your lunch. and throw their knives. have a little scotch. clip the coupons, make the dinner, and love him. we’ll buy the cheese. afternoons we make hors d’oeuvres. baking the bread, sharpening knives. i bathe and drink tea. what i’ve done to you is rotten. shiksa caterer. can we consider who’s gonna cater? delicious food for you, nouvelle bar mitzvah cuisine. dietetic knishes, food that’s from the heart. take a bite and see. there’ll be food like food never before. looking at whizzer is like eating treyf. sweeter than a donut. she saves lives and i save chicken fat. i want lobster. catered kosher! i want the applebaums. don’t talk to me about taste. i cant eat breakfast. and its something i cooked. she ate the food and she got sick. rugelach, gefilte fish. in a kosher morass. try my chicken soup. we’re both gonna cure you, me with my soup, she with her medication. kneidlach. drink a little something til you’re dead. gee, we love to eat and we need something sweet. i’ll be eating hors d'oeuvres. i’ll unwrap the billion hors d’oeuvres and someone please eat them. champagne makes things lovely. drink up, anyone for bubbly? cheers. it’s me who should toast him. i passed around the food then dumped some extra food ‘cause lord knows we’ve got plenty. she’s cooked for some 200 guests. the food tastes really yummy. the wine is very soothing. i feel more rotten than i have in years. meanwhile though it’s tears and schmaltz. who would i feast my eyes on?
