dinosaur chicken nugget

they say we're evolved from
microphones. i open the freezer
& sitting next to the specimen 
of an extiction is a bag
of dinosaur nuggets. we keep 
cutting down the land line just 
to have it grow back. someone 
is always calling & asking 
if we've found jesus. jesus lives 
in the garbage disposal & eats his fill.
i always say, "i have too much butter cream
to deal with salvation." then i hang up.
i hope they think about it for years.
i haven't eaten an animal since high school
unless you count the spider that
supposedly crawl into your open mouth
as you sleep. this is probably an old wives tale
but i choose to think i'm getting
more protein than i really am.
i am so in love with someone right now
that i would burn down whatever they asked me to.
every day eco terrorism seems
like  a more & more viable option.
we could live off the land i think
as i microwave the nuggets. a ressurection.
i am trying to bring them back to life.
"rise!" i say & the dinosaurs return 
but only as voices. calling like flicking
a lighter & not getting the satisfaction
of the flame. i don't want ambition.
i want to spend money. i want to have
the hollow bones of a bird so 
when i fall i turn into a cartoon shape
of my history. instead, i collect myself
off the kitchen floor. wipe grit from my knees.
turn the dinosaurs (again) into compost.
eat chick peas from the can. 
write a list of ways i can worship 
my lover: fresh cut snap dragons,
a bullseye, and a kiss put in an envelop 
so that it will turn into a moth.