Joining In - being part of the race.

Grateful. Not overly so though, And certainly not traditionally.
Giving credit to a possible but unlikely source…No, I’m grateful to that group of poor bastards’ standing in lines. One with measured doses of chilli and tomato sauce,
Sweet chilli, a light kick. One with a bowl or tray of mozzarella cheese, perpetually nagged to put less Or put more, or less or more and next to them armed with spinach and opposite onion man, another lost soul under beratement from QC, for more for less for more. Finally the chicken, smoked breast they’d have me believe…
Then that harridan QC, again whom I’m grateful to, for ensuring not too much, and not too little…Yes gratitude is in mind for all these souls, and those who grew the source materials, and those who delivered them to wherever to becomes components to become this pizza, that is then packages and frozen and stacked, packed boxed palletised loaded driven floated railed taken from there to near here, from near to home to oven so that fifteen minutes later I can have some calories that I maybe don’t require but sort of desire and think a brief thanks to all that wasted effort, actually my gratitude is waning, the foods all gone, and now I feel pity, briefly for what cost me £1 and took twenty five minutes of my life to heat and eat, well, just how many must they make to get paid, and live a life away from swiftly flowing belts and how that it kinda gives rise to the thoughts that Nietzsche might just be right in his misconstrued fame, but alas he should have killed the other off too... and that moment shall pass also, most likely by the time I place this soiled plate into the dishwashers rack, and then who knows what banal train of thoughts will wash across this cerebrum…well, God only knows…