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Testing moa bridge with a short poem.

Ode to a Big Mac:

I chew through soft bread
And warm, cooked meat.
Reminded of the steaming
Freshly-killed carcass my ancestors would eat.
Whilst pre-digested cow circles my mouth
I think on blood, dripping from primal teeth.
Wet crimson snow and the thrill of the hunt.
I rip out another chunk of simulated carcass.
We didn't evolve from animals.
We are animals.

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