On Vegetarianism

For me, vegetarianism is absurd.

The lick dripped spitting of a frying pan
pooling bacon grease
the warm ripe red center of a strip steak
(a seared seal of flavor)--makes me stagger like a drunk--

tearing the pork, passionately smoked,
slathered in spicy barbecue sauce, from the rib
of a home raised pig: once a pet, lovingly nicknamed Ham

roasted chicken, until the skin is crispily browned
and the breast juicily pulls from the bones, buttered
or fish fried (until a fork can gently flake the tissue with ease).

--Call me barbaric.--

Veggie burgers do not taste like cow.
You will never see meat impersonate broccoli.

I might support the slaughter of Ham, but
I would never kill a beautiful blooming onion
nor radiant purple radishes ripening in the sun,
nor would I hurt a fly,
because vegetables and flies don't taste very good.