The flags of tomorrow

Appetite or desire which sensation?
Left lost in the contemplation
of whether it was one or the other
One meal to decide the world's fate

And the napkin he tucks over his collar
is a flag
Like a tea towel sized dollar
The throat brags

One meal to define the world
a session of chewing that shouldn't drag
As the feast is eaten and spilled on tomorrow's flag
stained in the shape of a nation

Each morsel savored
every taste bud firing
tiny motors of the revolution
Unhindered by convention or it's futile pollution

Here we are teeth sharpened
appetites raging
Ready to eat off the flags
To delight in chaos and digest it

Order is a sweetness
A distant dessert
One our palate is foreign to
Linear, inevitable