Selfish Lunches

I like to sit alone at a table for lunch
and eat a bowl of cereal and fresh fruit
no one would be seen or heard for miles
nothing but the empty shine of light on the floor
nothing but silence resting easy on my glasses
nothing but me and my bowl of afternoon cereal
the berries bleeding their color into the milk
the marbling milk giving itself to the flakes
so that the flakes dissolve in my mouth
smooth enough that I can finally hear the music
with each and every bite undisturbed
spooning a lunch hour so delicious
into a hunger that will leave for a time
but soon return to claim that no one ever thought to feed it