How I Wish I were an Artichoke...

How I wish I were an artichoke!  This wise vegetable protects its heart with layer after layer of leaves and hair.  It is not the vulnerable rose, just waiting to be be-headed.  A red rose is the Romeo and Juliet of plants, rapid happiness. 

In order to appreciate an artichoke, one must invest time.  Peeling away each leaf and savoring its butter coated fibers is a pleasure all its own.  I like to eat my artichokes in front of the fireplace, as a popcorn alternative.  The journey and the destination are a joy. 

But third base is the choke.  It is oral sex; tongue out of place and eyes tearing.  Is there anything beyond this epic failure of social graces?  Who makes it to the heart of the vegetable?  Where is the interpenetration of throat and heart?

Who might eat me?