I Am but a Sliver. A Slice of a Man. Want a Bite?

I write. You read. I give a little bit of me. You take and ingest. Just a cross-section. A little brain. Fat. Skin. Bone. Displayed on fine porcelain. Or peasant's plate. Grotesque. Intriguing. All at once. What do I taste like? You're the decider. The reader. But it's still only a taste. A sample. What " i " was then. In "that" moment.

" i " taste better now. What with all the new experiences. Age bringing wisdom with the gray. And better medication. But taste is. In the mouth of. The expectant connoisseur. I am. What others believe. I am. right? Only skin deep. So very shallow. What part were you eating? The ear different. From the eye. In texture. As it slips across the tongue. And the all important taste.

Always the taste. Gotta feed "god belly! Gotta keep him happy! Goes the mantra. "It's him we must appease!" Or is it? Is there choice or only fate. Says the age-old debate. But the real remains. Unsettled.