my friend’s got a pig heart in him. my friend’s got part of a pig’s heart,a piece, his heart’s part pig. the aortic valve is the dog-godguarding the tube blood runs through once it’s been scrubbed clean. one of two semilunar valves which sounds like a part of a moon, a piece. my friend’s got moons in him separating the two major atria. my friend’sfull of ballrooms, those darkvaulted ceilings. my friend’s a vegan. my friend’s a vegan with a pig heart thumping club music. my friend believes the pig in him is vegansince it eats what he eats,speaks when he speaks. the pig heart pulses in his chestlike a reflection of the moon in a puddle out behind the clubonce we’ve finished dancing. my friend takes drugs so his body doesn’t reject the organ. my friend takes drugs so he can go on dancing. his pig grown to be sewn into a man’s ribs, unnaturally selected, no god could have predicted this in any garden. still holy the bit of tissue that lets him live & live. thin filament that set another seventeen years going inside him. if you listen with one ear to his chest you can hear the pig heart singing, calling out to any listening animal: all i. want is. to live. & live. & live. & live. & live. & live.