Piecemeal Survival

Every piece of meal is an act of survival. At the revival factory,
things wound.  It's true that we ate each other's food. It's true
that we too were just cubs.  There are men with knives

who like to caress their knives.  It's hard to picture
them as pink little dumpling babies. But we get old
and live in specific neighborhoods.  It would be too much

to survive all at once, like a deep sea diver rocketing
on a camel near Bluto.  You turn me right, round.
No human can be dancer.  It's true that we dance.