what's wrong, honey?

what are you thinking about,
she asks me,
you've been quiet all night,
I haven't seen you
in such a blue
and quiet mood for sometime.
she reaches over and touches
my knee as I drive the car.
is it me, us, what's
bothering you?
it's nothing, I tell her.
i'm fine.
really. i'm just thinking,
that's all.
about what. please tell me,
honey,
you can tell me anything.
we'll, you begin.
I'm thinking
about bacon. all day long
I've wanted to eat
some bacon, but I heard
on the radio
that it's really really
bad for you.
she shakes her head,
and stares out the car
window. it's raining harder now.
bacon, she says? really.
you've been moping around
all day because of bacon.
pfff. you need some serious
mental help.
I think I need a cigarette.
and a drink, she says,
rolling down the window a little.
you're upset about bacon?
it's grizzled fat. how can
it not be bad for you.
this is what you're worried about?
but, I tell her, staring
at the rain as the wipers
flop back and forth across
the windshield.
I just bought some the other
day and a tube of jimmy
dean sage sausage.
I want to eat it but I don't
want to die, either.
she continues to shake her
head.
what's wrong, I ask her.
are you upset? is it me?