nothing to eat

it's hard to find
food at this hour.
the fridge has nothing
of interest.
dried figs, spoiled fruit,
something wrapped
and frozen
in the ice box.
lettuce
and American cheese,
singles.
I dial
up the local pizza
shop
while I nibble on a
slice of cheese.
nothing.
then the Chinese
place, nothing again,
then my mother.
there's no answer.
the phone keeps ringing.
it's probably too late anyway
to be eating.
although I could
use some of mom's pot
roast right about
now.
I can almost taste
the carrots and onions.
the beef falling
apart
in my mouth. the crusty bread
she set beside my plate,
with butter.
the memory of youth
in each warm bite.