Somehow
Magically, and also in the most pedestrian, quotidian way
The food that you have not yet eaten, but will eat some day
Is already your stool
Even though it's yet to go into your mouth, it's going to be grown, harvested, processed, etc
And then you'll find your way to it, it to you
You have a beautiful (or wretched) time of intersection with it in your mouth
Your body does the work it does on it to make it a dump
The butt ejects it from its day or so inside of you, having stripped it for parts aka calories
Food no longer, but dump, and specifically, your dump, and also, some remnants remain part of you
And it was always this way
You were a bullet heading for the food even as it was growing
A story told by bards and poets for centuries of the intertwining
No comments:
Post a Comment