So that I can better care for the creatures of the Earth
There is a line about eating nothing with a face
So I've sworn off anything that can give birth.
Now weeks into my journey
Towards full Vegan-ism
I open my fridge to hunt for fresh produce
While watching the afternoon show of “Chisum”
Oh, that John Wayne is a hunk of cowboy
Even me being sworn Hetero can admit that
So with tomato and green pepper in hand
I shoo away the Cat
Always takes my chair
I often wonder at that…
Don’t think he’s a John Wayne Fan
But who can say the motivations of a cat.
I rummage in the knife drawer..
With half an eye on the telly
Finding my favorite knife
I regard my tomato thoughtfully.
I see a jolly wrinkle on it’s skin it seems,
So I wipe it off before setting it down,
And all goes well,
Until it sees the knife…suddenly a frown
Did I say “it sees”?
Because for sure that is what it seemed
That my tomato was trying to communicate with me
That it didn't want to be sliced, fried, or creamed.
I looked closer…
Almost, it winked at me I think..
Eyes wide, I put it down..
And poured myself a drink.
If a tomato has a face.
That opens up all kinds of issues…
With the vegetable race.
Primary of which is: “What the devil am I to eat?”
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