On Thievery

Today I stole food. It fit in my pocket.
It was our drowning decision
to float. No, it did not feel warm there,
not cold (as if burning
either way). Yes, I consumed it.
What else would I have done?
Turned it over to the snake and gull.
Put my hands up as if at gunpoint.
Neither of these choices will occur.
This is not a motion picture, there are only so many
recordings at any given moment.
It is in motion, fleeing or returning over and over
that you are turned over to tape,
to surveillance methods. Where
do our very cold temperatures touch us?
As if on the outside, as if in peril.