Poem: Artificial Sweeteners

People always warn me
about putting Splenda in my coffee,
mostly in hangover diners
with blinds drawn against the sun.
They’ll cock their shades usually
revealing a haggard set of eyes
that look as though they are still swimming
and say something like: “Shit’s bad for you man.”
And Splenda’s not the only one.
Deodorant too, I’m told, is a new-age no no
because it causes cancer. “Oh
go on and laugh now, but later you’ll cry.”
I sniff myself for malignant spores and respond:
“I thought that’s why Death was invented;
so that I wouldn’t have to make a fuss
about getting there. And anyway
do you really think life so fragile it would resist
our few granular attempts to make it sweeter?
Those to make it stink not quite so bad?
We're made of sturdier stuff than that, I think."
But a sudden lurch prevents his response-
the breakfast tacos are not sitting well-
and for just a moment I wonder
if I've maybe been proven wrong.