salt and fuel

I shovel 
the macaroni salad 
into my mouth with the fork, 
holding the bowl tilted
more and more towards 
almost upside-down; the tines
scraping musically on ceramic. 
Searching the last tube, 
last piece of onion 
and olive. I kind of can't 
wait to chew, but
this 
is going to be
the last bite. It counts
for everything.