To eat Chipotle or not to eat, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in the gut to suffer
The slings and arrows of salmonella-riddled lettuce
Or take spoons against a sea of queso
And by spilling all, end it. To dine, to eat;
To eat, perchance to solidly excrete––ay, there’s the rub:
For in that joy of sofritas, what shame may come
When we have shuffled through this mortal E. coli
Must give us pause––there’s the listeria tainting
That makes calamity of so long bathroom lines.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of corn salsa,
Th’pico de gallo’s wrong, the proud steak’s contumely,
The pangs of dispriz’d beans, the sour cream’s delay?
None but he who grunts and sweats under a weary life,
The brave diner who doth make cowards of us all,
Smilingly casting forth $1.95 extra for the guac,
Bearing those ills that place the gas into gastronomy,
Knowing the risk of food poisoning,
And knowing the poison can be sweet!

—A. Golden

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