It is noon as a man enters a small food shack
and orders a bowl of Ramen.
The man is hungry.

It tastes of afternoon sweat
as a farmer picks another scallion
while he sears in the scorching sun.

It tastes of a jolly pig
as it munches greedily on corn
unaware of the scraping sounds of cleavers.

It tastes of bitter cold
as a diver yanks at seaweed
in a pillaring forest of kelp.

It tastes of humid morning fog
as bamboo is cut down to size
and bound in cord and twine.

It tastes of careful balance
as a worker carries a basket of eggs
and protects the fragile payload.

It tastes of nothing.
The bowl is empty.
The man is happy.