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(poem 86)

by Vivian Chinelli

I looked at the menu and ordered a steak.

The waiter said, "Please follow me."

He led me to the kitchen and gave me an apron.

A sweet, gentle cow was all I could see.

"At our Farm to Table Bistro you kill your own meals.  This is Bessie, and here is your knife.

Just kill her as 'humanely' as you possibly can.

Then once you have taken her life, 

we'll clean up her blood, dissect her and skin her.

Then we'll grill her at your table.


Enjoy your dinner!

And come back next week when our specialty is

roasted pork and fig.

We'll be directing you to the kitchen again,

only this time to slaughter a sweet little pig."

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