Food for Non-thought:::
My eyeballs bleed with teriyaki sauce that ferments from my pancake soul.
Salty, so salty that I whine with pleasure at the drop of each soy bean.
I ask the waiter in an Italian joint what he recommends and he says, "Catch me at my break."
I stood outside in the rain to try and catch a drizzle of parmesan that was left on my cheek, but my tongue wasn't long enough:::
Recall is not my best attribute, so I'll forget it and call it a tomorrow:::