Symphonies of Sighs as time slides by, and
I Push another knife into another lobster eye,
take another lobster-life While I Try to figure out why in the world am I
Doing what I’m doing.
I’ll decapitate a fish With the quick flip of the wrist
and the flash of a blade,
throw fistfuls of shrimp corpses into an open plastic-bag grave,
But what am I doing REALLY?
My world is a polished steel counter-top,
And a cold macabre menagerie
of dead animals and creatures of the Sea
Some times it just seems like utter absurdity,
The construct that we see and make be,
Packaged nature becomes a commodity,
‘I want a Slice of Salmon that’s thick all the way across.’
Sorry mam…that’s not the way that those animals are shaped.
What you’re asking for does not exist.
Your meal will not cook evenly. Your unreasonable demands
Cannot be met, we haven’t found a way to so alter fish yet
but I’m sure if you can wait just a few more years
I’ll be able to sell you nice, even, rectangles and hexahedrons of flesh.
Honestly, the rails are calling me to the West,
and soon I’ll answer their song
Because There are no Saints here, no San Francisco,
so I try to find my own
but sometimes even that