Adrienne Burris
HUNGER
My preferred meal was To Not Be a Burden:
kids’ macaroni, tap water, ketchup packets.
My brother? To Be Memorable: give him a
large chicken alfredo, virgin banana daiquiri.
Four bites and he was full or something like it.
My husband? Well - in the restaurant gift shop,
looking for nothing, he does that thing he does:
grabbing toys to dance, wiggling sunglasses and
eyebrows. I death glare behind the postcard stand.
But then he takes ears with red and black sequins,
puts them on my head duck-faced and for some reason
I leave them on. I lower my to-go box of leftovers
and I smile. And I had not smiled in so long, or so rarely,
he says we have to buy them, and when I try to put them back
he marches to the clerk, he won’t take no for an answer.
My husband? To Be Happy.
I calculate how many times to wear them,
how many smiles could make $29.99 worthwhile.