Hunger points my brain downward, makes me hear my stomach rumbling. I dance to the rhythms for awhile, but hunger won't let me do that for long, it pushes me forward. I got no money. I don't know where to go. Hunger brings up a map before my eyes; all roads lead to Food; I can't lose, hunger tells me. I stumble in a crazy way looking for anything. The streets are full of leaves and shit.

It's been days or hours, hunger patting me on the back, offering me cigars. Hunger is stupid but he's okay, he's funny in a kind of stupid way. He tells me things. I think he's as crazy as I am. He talks about food all the time, sometimes like he loves it like it's a little kid, sometimes like it's poison, the worst thing.

Sometimes I panic, I'm starving to death, I look down, I can start to see my stomach bloating. Hunger comforts me. He plays a mean mouth harp. Hunger and me, walking down the street, he's running through `The Saints Go Marchin In' and I'm just dancing, what could be more perfect?