chew your food.

I ran across this interesting little poem on the writers almanac called Last Meal, by Bill Holm:

On death row you celebrate your last night
with your last dinner, your choice, your last craving
to make at least your stomach happy before it stops
craving anything at all. Many choose
simple food: a hamburger, mac and cheese, ice cream.
What might it be for you, my friend?
Duckling Rouenaisse? A roast of unborn lamb?
Washed down with Veuve Cliquot '59 and old Armagnac?
And how do you know, my friend, that you are not
eating your last meal at this very table now?
Chew slowly. Make sure you take in all the body and the blood.

The way the poet gets his message across is definitely interesting in a weird way. As I read it this morning, it totally made me look at my chocolate cheerios a little differently. There's no way my last meal is gonna be a handful of dry cereal in the car :P