Ode to the Guy Sitting Across From Me Eating a Granola Bar and Looking Skeptically at My Bottle of Soylent

We should be friends, you and I

but instead there’s distrust.

So we sit across this aisle

eating different things mushed.

I’d argue mines healthier.

You’d swear yours tastes better.

Anyway, shouldn’t we both be trying to murder the guy eating that delicious smelling, cholesterol-packed, egg-and-cheese sandwich?