....rounding the last curve....

and I can't believe I ate the whole thing. 
I begin this post in the middle of a sentence to emphasize the feeling in my gut as we speak.  There is so much in my mind, my being, it's a jumbled mess.  With every bite of every dish of every meal, I replenished some depleted depth of my belly and some deeper, richer place.  It has left me full, overstuffed, confused, scared....to a place of joyous possibility, speculation, and wonder.  I can't consciously form a thought about any of it.  Two nights ago I wrote a full page and had to delete/throw it into a dungeon of attempts at free verse that never go anywhere.  I am still going no where.  This post has no cohesion other than the fact that it will have a beginning of sorts, an end, and the conclusion that our weekend of excess is approaching it's final destination. 
It's 1 am, I have no more room but I am about to venture back out for one last taste.  A simple gyro means more than the sum of it's parts.  The streets are quiet of the normal human chatter but the truth of the street is fully alive and pulsing.  The subconscious hum is beckoning me to walk a thousand blocks, the chilly whisper of a thousand voices past, the subtle vibration of feet too many to count passing under my own.  I am a confused mess by the underlying possibilities of this city, a place so full of unabashed culture and pride for such.  It is so real to me.  I hope I won't forget that.  It is so easy to forget.  I only wear closed toed shoes by choice once a year and my feet feel it.  I wish the rest of my senses could keep such a close fossil memory. If and only if a certain sight, smell, or sound could bring me back here to where food changes me so much.  Good night and till next time...