a hamburger
on a grill, or the wafting smell
drifting out of a vent
of a nearby restaurant,
i want it.
i want it with cheese and onions
on a buttered
toasted bun
with a side order of fries.
i am Pavlov's dog, salivating.
i look at the neon sign
and sigh. smacking my lips.
that perfume you wear, has
the same effect.
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