as long as it tastes good

cheap crab, caught fresh daily
the resturant had a strong following
i ate there once a week, at lunch
the big city felt smaller
in the Crab Shack dive bar

the cook would sometimes say
“People don’t care what they eat,
as long as it looks right and tastes good.”
most of the time, there would be a cheer
drinks raised in agreement
it always made me anxious
the way he said it
set of alarms in my head

one night i saw
a bunch of hooligans on the docks
and they were smashing bottles
being jerks
when i saw him, the Crab Man,
walking toward them

i headed closer too,
my hand on my cell phone
i frose in place as my blood ran cold
the Crab Man pointed at the boys
red energy flowed from his finger
and the Crab Man collected
five squirming crabs
after they finished transforming

i never ate crab again

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, prose, flash fiction, and novels. I've always loved the free form poem, and practice it most often. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

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