HAM

Ham

And as I walk I see a man, and as he walks he shovels ham, he shovels ham into his mouth. He is a man. He is shoveling ham. With a great fist he furiously wallops it, into his mouth, the dark abyss.

That is one desperate mouth/abyss, no gob, gob, it’s a gob. That gob, it seems, has been aching…no…burning…no…yearning for that ham for some time. A whole packet of premium sliced ham, gone in an instant. There can’t have been any other time in history that pork and gob met so quickly.