Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. —John 6:53–56
The hot dog, so I was informed,
was wholly beef. Let us not dispute
the unknowable. I needed lunch;
I asked for kraut and mustard. “New York?”
No, I told him: Philly. Not quite a truth,
but near enough to warm
a conversation on a brisk street corner.
I gave my crumbs to the birds.