And so too are bellybuttons

I'm standing at a tank full of soon to die lobsters and think man has made many mistakes. I think that these lobsters here, with loose eyes and backward steps will soon die for mens' appetites and how stupid that is. And that men will not kill their own meals but will eat from the hands of others and will not think otherwise outside of their wallets. I think that they will gaff at the thought of eating another human but not think for a second at the thought of eating a pig's cheek and how un dissimilar that all is. They will think killing thousands in a few moments throughout one day is terrible, but then the killing of one man in retribution is somehow appropriate. While a lobster dies without excuse but a fetus can't. And then I think that DFW was a genius but only after he put a noose around his neck. At least it wasn't a shotgun. Or a pistol. Well, at least bullets weren't involved. But he too, he too thought about lobsters. But I think about those that don't eat them and how much I admire them. Thinking on their feet outside of their skins. And how well their skins must taste, especially south of their own equators. And how that's the only seafood worth smelling and tasting and how in a moment a person's own intimate areas can taste sour and sweet and that the taste of anything is momentary and that sustaining a world and a life and a civilization is so much more. And then I look at these lobsters without names and histories and I find myself being a sympathizer for many if not all and then notice my reflection full of filth and misery and gall. And I see myself and a loose eye wandering and a wayward antennae dragging back and I think everything is appropriate with or without meaning and that spelling is just a keen practice that is fitting for humans and so too are bellybuttons.


-Remoy