"I'm mystified by you," I said
"your extra arms, your extra head.
what kind of life must your kind lead;
what kind of thing on which you feed?"
"We're not that different," he said.
"We like your cheese and beer and bread.
We like your meat," he then confessed.
"We like it very simply dressed—
dressed in a suit or in the nude."
"I don't approve this choice of food,"
I said, "I don't look good upon a plate.
It would be such a big mistake
To think I'd simply acquiesce
to bathe in pesto, romanes-
co, or some stew. No sauce for me!
Though you look quite rotisserie."
"We're in dispute," he mused out loud.
"A compromise would do us proud."
"All right," I said. "What should we share?"
"We'll give up what we have to spare."
"That's fair enough, I guess," I said,
"You'll eat my hand, I'll eat your head."
Which demonstrates consensus-ship,
But doesn't say who leaves the tip.