Perhaps if we jailed all the cats...

the first field trip i remember
was my second year of school
when one stop was the local
butcher shop.

we all filed in to listen
to the apron-ed man
as he demonstrated cutting things
down to size, with big shiny blades,
but the highlight was
when he plopped a phallic
looking muscle on the counter.

i think someone even said it, sending
us into a giggling twitter, kids only
know how to tell the truth until
shushed enough

he though declared it the tongue
of a calf and asked if anyone wanted
some and so the few and brave took
slices to nibble, while others cringed
and faux vomited

years later, in high school
we all acquired a taste, especially
when consumed in open faced
lockers and back seats, fine
young cannibals, we became

until, in adulthood, we learned
to swallow our own when we
see something that makes us
uncomfortable, which

in truth, tastes just like baloney.

Imperfect Prose