"The End of Patience" - Alx Johns
The crock pot is staring straight ahead,
with a fat, shell-shocked face:
logo eyes, nose of knob set on low,
brain of lean beef,
cooking slow.
Electric poet of
metal and clay skull.
Me, I'm made of
what you're thinking is meat,
my brain the fatty part, perhaps made more
interesting by the fact
that I'm interpreting
cooking like this,
and that I once considered for hours
which part of myself I would eat first
if I were starving to death.
I settled on my uncommon calves.
Slow cooked,
they could supply
loads of protein.
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