When I think about
How I eat
And what I eat
And what I’m supposed to eat,
I think of this children’s book I read to my son.
It’s a story about a grandmother,
Living in the
Forest,
Who places baskets of
Food
Outside her door for the
Forest creatures.
In the straw baskets,
Lined with checkered cloth,
Are rosy apples,
Orange carrots with green tops,
Corncobs with the husk peeled down to the knob.
Bursting heads of grass-green lettuce,
Rolling cobalt and burgundy berries.
And to the
Deer and moose
And squirrels and raccoons,
All these vegetables and fruits are a
Feast.
No protein,
Carbs, or
Fat
In the form of bread, cheese, milk or meat.
Just fruit and vegetables for these animals.
After they eat,
The animals in the book are
Drowsy and sated.
Vegetables and fruit have been
More than enough.
It occurs to me
That I am
An animal.
That I have muscles and
Bones and
Blood and
Organs
Like those forest creatures.
I am more
The same
Than different.
So,
Why can’t I subsist on what these
Animals eat?
It must sound ridiculous.
Getting my nutritional information from an
Illustrated children’s book.
But I’m thinking about
Simplicity.
And requirement.
The experts say this,
And the experts say that.
I want to stop listening.
Who tells animals what to eat?
I want to eat like an animal
Because I am an animal.