Enough

[author's note: This is an experiment I wrote after skimming through James Joyce's Finnegans Wake. Feedback is welcome.]

Erica believes that she will eat her meal peacefully. A sandwich, simple. That already bites and swallows. Enough to feel full and temporary. Believing unknowingly. Unfortunately, she always wrongs. None. No longer. No. Enough to feel empty and permanently expectant.

Erica chews and swallows, sitting at her desk, her laptop glaring. Screensaver unfortuitously popping, pop, pop. Enough to eat a horse, beaten and wild. Glaring wild. Weakness wanes in the stomach of the melting moon. Enough to call.

Erica’s cell phone vibrates. It’s Eric. E(lect)ric lives superfluously in a proverbial basement. She hellos again again to enough enough. Chewing and breathing, swallowing or speaking and looking. Left to nothing of an imagination.

Eric wants Erica. Erica wants Eric. Nothing yet, always undergroundwater. Feet say something to eyes unblinking. Images pop, pop, popping. Disembodied electric talk.

They chat. Enough not in taste. Food feeds not is feet. Movies mind carefully. If a walk were in mindless speech, electricity unbinds. A possibility, half arranged. Enough not sat hunched. Er(ot)ica words charge a surprise word. Words words enough? Swim down then up.

Erica finishes her meal, content.