I haul it all Don’t be late Just drag me to the boarding gate.

Steaming trays Endless feast Chow mein for days Waistline deceased

Your life in yours and mine in mine. Upon you sit, a shift in spine. Part for the mints. Part for borrowed lines. Forgot at home, virtual shines.

I'm Moby Dic's worst enemy, not Ishmael, but sinister indeed. From the bow, I enter thee, piercing deep, you'll come to me.

The British have bad ones, The old use fake, The young have none, You need these if you want to eat a steak! What am I?