Many people here in this Metropolis
Few touch you as other poets touch you
They cut deep into your meat
Bleeding out the red of you
As fire they burn the muscle and bone
Put you on a pretty plate
Invite you to dine with them
Hold hands and say grace
They are the ones who will feed you
When food is lacking
The few keep you from starving
Thank you for the great meals
You make this old tough meat
Palpable.