I once ate meat,
and then I stopped.
Consider the Lobster,
had invaded my brain.
Peter Singer made a
compelling argument
about suffering.
So one day I stopped
hovering
over chicken legs and
beef stock.
Then I ate only vegetables;
and realized it was too hard–
not having any animal
biproduct.
No eggs where there ought to be,
no ingredients that even
touched an animal
body part.
But that had to change,
so I ended up
eating some biproduct:
because I loved muffins.
For 10 years I did not
touch the living mass,
outside the errant
beef burrito
that accidentally
ended up on my plate.
Long pig would be
more savory
than meat from
sentient beasts.
As of late,
the last two years,
I began eating meat
again: chicken at first,
and then other
temptations, including
steak and beef
of many forms.
I am trying yet again to
dial it back,
because I keep thinking
about the suffering
of the piglets,
and the anguish
of the chicken–
no matter their
deliciousness
under the fork.
Morality and ethics
are always at play.
