Come now, don't be squeamish—
even if it is your first time.
Perhaps a lesson from the food
industry will help.
Back in the day—yes, I know
the sun is now accursed
and remains forever off-limits—
but long before
your taste buds, along with the rest
of you, died off,
restaurateurs leaned how much
more likely an item
was to sell if its pedestrian or street
name was replaced by
something more exotic or palatable
sounding: hence sweet-
breads, escargot, and mountain
talons (the braised feet of ducks)
and Chilean sea bass
(the less than toothsome Patagonian
toothfish); even kiwi fruit
(née the Chinese gooseberry).
All sound delicious, do they not?
More than likely, as
gourmet items, they'll also put a huge
dent in your wallet.
So why not do the same with tonight's
repast? Believe me,
the aversion to calling what now forms
the only foodstuff in our diet
anything other than it is will pass soon
enough, whether it's
two-legged steak, neck tartare,
served au jus, or simply Swift's Veal.
Of course, unlike
your five star establishment, all of these
menu items must also
be caught and dragged down first, but
it's not like between dusk
and dawn, we post-human walkabouts,
we Homo semimortui, have anything
better to do.