Can You Spare It?

Living so high

gives me nightmares of

 falling,

down

down

down,

and just before impact,

I don't wake up.

I lie there like a mutant,

absorbing my pain through my mouth,
like sucking the juice from a Sierra Lady.

Back at the dinner table,

elbows on bleached linen,

you're selecting a cut of

meat from the waiter's tray.

I figure my flesh is more to your taste,
so I lift my shirt and cut a sample from my ribs.