Wrap your arms around me, from behind. Make a fist with one hand, placing the thumb side just above my navel and well below my sternum. Grasp this fist with your other hand and press firmly into my abdomen with quick, upward thrusts until I begin to breathe again.
The one time I choked in your presence, you looked down at my plate. That is where you sent your thoughts, to my food, inaccessible to me.
I never let you look inside my mouth. My teeth a few are yellow, a molar brown, most white. The reason is: I never used them much.
I have no patience to chew. Once I feel hungry, food has to be in my stomach. I refuse to cook or watch one cook.
Do not read me shopping lists. Do not show me ingredients. I want my meals unannounced from now on. Come where I am and shove the plate under my face.
You will see me grab at my throat. My face will turn blue.
Dine closer to me.
Luca Dipierro is a writer, filmmaker and visual artist born in Northern Italy and living in Brooklyn, NY. To know more, go to www.lucadipierro.com. For some biscotti, go to blackbiscotti.blogspot.com.
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