This Moveable Feast

There is something strangely captivating about the volume of cast off food encountered while moving on foot through the urban environment. Days and nights in this city are spent stepping over, around and occasionally in representatives of most of the major food groups dropped or forgotten on sidewalks, benches and newspaper boxes. Those so impassioned are encouraged to infer a statement about hunger, poverty, waste and GMO produce this week. Everyone else can wonder along with me at exactly what kind of freaky shit has to go down for the contents of a single balogna and cheese sandwich to be spread across the sidewalks of half a city block.

One or two a day then:

{Inchlong. One small bite left in the bag, waiting for the next big rainstorm or hungry stray realdog.}

{Crust Off. The trees near my office collect a great number
of odd objects, including sandwiches, which they will apparently
eat with or without the crust.}

{Just J. No PB. Of course I checked. For science.}

{Once Bitten. Twice disgusting. Who the hell bites into an unpeeled orange?}

{Foundcakes. For your crazy hobo sweet tooth.}

{Explogna. Several slices of American cheesefood, too difficult to photograph together,
also bubbled in the noon sun fifteen feet behind me. While I like to imagine that some angry,
explosive argument spread this meatwich across the sidewalk, it was more likely an incremental
dismantling, accompanied by the kind of incoherent muttering that will cause you to clutch your
handbag and children tighter, closer. Mommy, why is that man yelling at his sandwich.
Shhhh, it's not polite to stare.}

{Lost Pork. Terrified to know both a) the circumstances under which this half-can of spolied
"pork with juices" made it here, far from any commercial kitchen and b) how many school
lunch casseroles I have consumed in my life that contained a fresher version
of this ambrosial delight.}