What am I but a piece of meat?

Neat nerve clusters, spread

Through a body comprised

Of smaller willing things,

Brings chemically fired emotions

To mix with meddlesome knowledge

And the aspirations of past

Generations—the hopes that

Procreation will inevitably occur.

Or maybe I am a creature of habit.

Vapid and practiced and nurtured

In the prerogative of a favorite

Tendency that leads to discovery:

“Everybody is unique in proclivities.”

—Cookie-cut people with preferences.