A Poem…about Steak

Steak

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No one loves you like I do.

In fact, I’ve several nicknames for you—

Beef chunk ambrosia

Coronary delight

Salty, buttered rump of heaven.

All of these and more.

It’s like I said—

No one loves you like I do.

When I first met you

as a young lad

I didn’t fully understand you.

Why would they leave your bone in?

Why are you a little burned on the outside,

and a little undercooked in your fleshy center?

Also…

Why would they give a six-year old

a Ginsu knife?

You tasted as if a live cow

had strutted up to me

and begged me to eat it.

Which I did.

Some people cook you better than others—

That restaurant I used to haunt

That annoying guy with the green, egg-like grill

whose house I visit for only the one reason.

My grandpa,

the one time he did it right.

But none of them revere you

like I do.

A dash of salt.

A blob of butter.

White charcoals, hotter than Chernobyl.

It’s pretty much a religious experience,

right?

You should’ve seen my face

when I ate your cousin the other day.

Most midlife crises

begin with flashy cars

and a new therapist.

But he and I,

we sat alone in the dark,

and I made stupid faces,

while he just

raised my cholesterol.

It’s fine.

I’d die for him.

And for you.

I mean, it’s probably too late already,

given the number of Angus I’ve sacrificed

to my sacred fork.

I think the neighbor hates me.

He stands on his deck, watching me worship you

as if you were some woman he coveted,

some woman I just grilled

over a five-hundred degree flame.

Whatever.

He lurked a while, gazing at me

like a starved wolf, who is also balding.

That’s weird.

I hope he was looking at you, not me.

When I’m alone, which is almost always,

I daydream of you.

You don’t talk much.

You just sizzle seductively.

Is that even a thing?

When we embrace, every vegan

in a ten-mile radius

dies.

It’s a shame, really.

I’m sure they were good people.

But nothing like you, my friend.

You, who loves me in a way

which makes me embrace arterial hardening

like a hug from an old friend

who just happens to be delicious.

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See more (not nearly as ridiculous) words here.

J Edward Neill

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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