For pepedogg: An infatuation
With burgers leads to questionable acts.
Hunger has driven me mad; in my sleep
I dream of cattle, bumping and grinding
Through a hand-cranked mill, lounging shamelessly
On a sensuous white sheet of butcher
Paper, as yet too fresh for fantasy…
In darkest night, when no one else can see,
I text: “R U hungry? When last I 8
U were on my mind” Risque recipes
Pass from my fingers to other would-be
Grillers, our minds marinating in the
Lust for burgers too fresh for fantasy…
The kitchen director calls for action.
The camera rolls, the director cries “Cut!”
And we do – luscious cuts of grade-A prime
Are primped and patted and escorted on-stage,
Awaiting their lines. The grill is prepared;
They deliver a sizzling performance.
Their time has come, and all can see they are
Not too fresh for fantasy anymore.