Dimly remembered celebrity chefs shuffle
down the cold and darkened highways of the heart.
They are the last personality left. They are the meek
who inherited the heart, what was left of it.
Without food to cook in new or exciting ways
nor audience to gasp and cackle, the chefs
of the heart quietly waste away while staring
doe-eyed into now-empty Safeway windows
checking under the dusty produce shelves
for something they pray the rats haven’t found yet.