The Meth Lunches: Food and Longing in an American City

by Kim Foster

He will say he is going to rescue her, but they will drown each other.

“God, what have I done?” he asks the sky. He asks his God. There is no answer. I see how much he has lost. He sees how much he has lost.

I think about slippage a lot—how things and people invisibly, over long lengths of time, slide into states of decrepitude.

Of the way depression covers you in gray blankets, which get heavier and heavier, until, months later, they are smothering you in total, mind-fucking blackness.

He tries to be the person he isn’t. But he’s always there in the mirror, this person he hates. This human with no paths to redemption.

Governments are meant to support their people. They should not be working to undermine our most vulnerable citizens.