Impermanence

As you sit,

the gentle murmur of city traffic wafts in,

a tall shapely glass of Belgian lager lazily bubbles away on the bar.

The French fries arrive nestled in a cone of wax paper

translucent with oil, held upright in a stainless steel spiral,

their dark hot crispy exterior dotted with coarse jewels of salt.

The crunch gives way in your mouth to a steaming creamy mash inside. 

And as you savor the first delicious bite,

they are all,

already gone.