Saturday, February 1, 2014

Taking Stock

My meat lies in bed
Wonders how it's gonna die
Its knee is in for a replacement
Twenty or so years from now
Maybe it will need a colostomy?
Don't even think about that!
You're only 33, meat.
You've got years before you're well done.
But the meat likes to think.
It likes to rotate on the spit.
It wonders, will I get hit by a car?
Will I make more meat
Before I get hit by a car
Or struck by a meteor--little baby meat
To put on my shoulders?
I've already got 3 veal patties,
Maybe that's enough.
I don't know, meat. You always seem
To want more--
Always practicing in the shower.
Maybe I'll get mugged.
Murdered in the street. Maybe cancer
Maybe diabeetus--look, meat
You need a hobby.
But this is my hobby.
Oh, meat. What the fuck is wrong with you?

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