Philosopher Orders Crispy Pork

I love him so, this creature I do pray was treated kindly. I will pay as much as pig-lovers see fit to guarantee him that. As for his fat, I’d give up years yes years of my own life for such a gulpable semblable. (My life! Such as it is! This liberality of leaves! The world won’t need those seventeen more poems, after all, there being so few subjects to be treated. Three if by subject we mean anyone submitted to another’s will. Two if by subject we mean topic. One if by death we wind up meaning love. And none if a subject must entail the curlicue’s indulgence of itself.)