do you remember the hooded memory of when your father grilled a slaughter of steaks on a July 4th grill that swung open like a carnivorous mouth?
In your teenagehood’s C-section beginning, do you remember drifting like an untethered astronaut into the black hug of space at the planetary edge of your family’s orbiting chatter?
In the 1st swallows of your teenage nutrition, do you remember a 200-gram steak sliding past your Adam’s ripening Apple? The tender juiciness flowed from 3,000 liters of water needed to hydrate cattle born to die in an America born to eat.
Did you absorb in freshman year math 3,000 liters of water is half a swimming pool? Put another way, enough to look safe until your spinal cord snapped.
In your wheelchair, you chew a medium rare steak served with snap peas and a watered smile.