My Last Meal

I often envision slaughtering my next door neighbor

blood on my hands – no forgiveness

their final breath choked out and fizzling in my face

no more complaints

no more slamming against our shared wall

about the mid level music coming from the stereo

beside my ear

Guilty

I wouldn’t even ask for a trial

put me on death row

great novels have been written in prison

and historically I would be in good company

Now – what would my last meal be?

Heart of komodo dragon in a port reduction sauce?

They probably wouldn’t let me eat anything endangered.

I wouldn’t ask for no fried chicken though

I tell you what

Give me a Devon Crab and Maine Lobster salad

complete with truffle oil and a half tomato

stuffed with white Beluga caviar from Iran

A bottle of 1978 Montrachet

from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti

followed by

Wagyu beef seared for twenty seconds and served

with a broth of pure saffron, a side of smoked

Matsutake mushrooms and a salad of day old pea shoots

I would then ask for a Dansuke watermelon

And a Yubari melon – both from Japan

And then ten cups of Kopi Luwak

or civet coffee – coffee that has been eaten

digested and pooped by the civet

cleansing the bean of it’s acidic properties

for when they fill me full of juice

I want to be wired

I want to go out like I came in

screaming wild and covered in shit

release the bowels

release the ghost

turn out the lights

turn out the lights

back to the star shine

belly full of food and wine

indigestible

my last meal

fit for the worms