#steak
It’s Sunday afternoon and several of us, Leong, Sunny, Anna, Lisa and her new BF Dave (well, he isn’t ‘new,’ he’s 26) and I are watching an NFL football game. The Eagles vs the Jets.
There’s a platter of wings, fries, celery and dips on the low-white table for grazing and everyone’s multitasking while watching the game. Leong, Lisa and I on iPads, Anna, and Dave are on laptops and Sunny has a book.
I’m rooting for the Jets, although they’re the underdogs and given little chance. Dave’s for the Eagles, he believes they’re SuperBowl bound and he may be right.
After every good Jets play, like a first down, or defensive tackle or a score, I start snapping my finger - like the dancing Jet hoodlums in ‘West Side Story’ and sing:
“When you're a Jet,
you’re a Jet all your life
all your kids will be Jets
and even your wife.”
When I did it the first time, Dave chuckled. Lisa patted his arm, saying, “You’ll get used to it.” I’ve only done it twenty or thirty times since then and everyone’s ignoring me.
“I could be a songwriter, you know,” I said, “just give up this life of college drudgery and hang with T-Swift”. No one denied my obvious talent.
A huge Eagles lineman bust through the Jets o-line, throwing QB Zach Wilson to the turf, “Jeez,” Anna said.
“That guy’s not an Eagle,” I protested indignantly, “he’s a condor.” I was hoping for a flag but none were thrown.
“I want some steak”, I announced suddenly, to no one and everybody, switching subjects as quickly as a brain synapse fires.
“Do you know,” I reasoned extemporaneously, “that a diet of nothing but healthy prime-rib or ribeye steak can practically eliminate the chance of coming down with mad-lettuce-disease?”
“Mad-lettuce-disease?” Sunny asked, looking up from her book with a smirk.
“Middle America,” I began, Leong groaned and Lisa rolled her eyes at Dave, who smiled.
“That’s where all our vegetables come from,” I said, “the red states on the electoral maps,” I clarified even further.
“Well, how can we explain simple, decent, hard-working people falling in love with a lying, craven, reality-TV huckster like Trump?” I asked rhetorically, looking around for an answer. When no answer was forthcoming, I supplied it:
“Mad-lettuce-disease!” I proclaimed, “Those people are eating the ‘vegetables’ they grow!” Giving the word ‘vegetables’ the same scorn I might lavish on ‘cigarettes’.
“If we all just stuck to a healthy, all-steak diet, ‘Mad-lettuce-disease’ would fade away and America would be saved.” I concluded, like a lawyer finishing a summation to a jury.
I expected applause, or at least a few “Amens” but there were only a few grunts and maybe a chuckle.
On the screen, the Jets defense broke through the Eagles o-line and quarterback Jalen Hurts, under pressure, threw an interception. I jumped to my feet yelling,“YES!” and begin snapping again:
“When you're a Jet
you’re a Jet all the way
from your first sorry breath
to your last dying day”
I love football, and the Jets won!
Oct 16, 2023
Oct 16, 2023 at 7:48 PM UTC
What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you.
Dinner is cooked; our drinks are chilling, and I’ve taken a hot bath. I want to be comfortable so I can
enjoy your company.
Your kiss is tasty, did you just pop a mint?
That’s okay love, it’s all good to me.
Go ahead, make yourself at home, wash your
hands, I’ll fix our plates.
Yep, you have a steak and potatoes,
and I have fish and veggies.
But King my Dear, you’re my main dish.
Can I fix you a drink? Do you need some ice?
So how was dinner, did you get enough?
Thanks for the compliment, I’m glad you liked it.
Sure, I’ll pour you another drink, and top it off with ruby red. Do I want to hear some music?
You know I do. Put on what you think I like?
Kem is fine my **** King, and pump up the volume
cause I am ready!
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:11 PM UTC
Come back to the stars my love
My chest is iced over
I can see your faded edges
You are seated and still
Sometimes the lines darken
A body part pierces the screen
An entire hand coming into view
Then it is snatched away
Retracting through space
More silent than ever before
Even the cells in your body are quieter
A supple fingertip presses into the greyed
It is like testing the firmness of steak
The gristle wrapped around my bones is injured
It is not yet repaired
Nov 13, 2019
Nov 13, 2019 at 6:05 PM UTC
Today I'm cooking some steaks,
I do believe steak is great,
I don't care what vegans say,
Maybe they should all **** off today!
Just kidding, believe what you like, I say,
I am cooking great steaks today!
No need to fuss, hold the bus,
Signed, one of the 'carnivores are us'!
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 7:02 PM UTC
Let me pour my insides out for you
...
Now tell me what else you want me to do?
After all the years of bad experiences,
There's bound to be much damage.
You said you'll leave me never
You said your love's forever
You said things would get better
...As time goes by...
I'm cracking under pressure
I can't keep me together
My dead meat's so much fresher
Butcher, butcher,
Where's your knife?
Mind don't,
Won't you take a life?
It is time to cut the meat
The finites, they love their steak
Rare
They like me super fresh
Yes
They like my meat bare
Because I taste the best
When I do not get any rest.
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
how cordial the
way we hold doors
for heeled ladies
and the elderly
but never order them
a steak.
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
I went into the kitchen and made sure to wash my hands,
then looked inside the cupboards and took out the pots and pans.
I sorted out my sharpest knives and laid them carefully
beside the wooden chopping-board I'd brought home from Capri,
a wine-glass, and a bottle of a cheeky Spanish red
(another happy souvenir of my travels to the Med).
I thought I'd better have some herbs to flavour up my lunch,
so I went into the garden and picked myself a bunch
of parsley, sage and rosemary, then poured myself a drink
– a drop of wine should help me in my labours round the sink.
Then I peeled and chopped an onion, which I sautéed golden brown
in extra-virgin olive oil. There was no time to sit down
while I scrubbed some new potatoes and put them on to boil,
so I had another glass of wine to help me through my toil.
Some Italian vine tomatoes and some peppers, red and green,
I sliced up on my chopping-board – no need for a machine,
and I always think that slicing veg is somehow that bit kinder –
then I sprinkled them with sea-salt and some pepper from the grinder.
By now my glass was empty, so I poured another drop in
to replenish all that energy I'd used up in the chopping,
and started on the vegetables, some pak-choi and mangetout,
from the local Farmers' Market, though they cost a bob or two.
I got the steak out ready, a lovely bit of fillet,
and lit the gas to heat the pan, my well loved cast-iron skillet.
It wouldn't need that long to cook; I didn't need to think
too hard about it, so I poured another little drink.
“That's really rather good,” I thought, but noted, broken-hearted,
that I'd finished off the bottle – and I thought I'd hardly started.
Still, I laid the steak into the pan. I left it there to fry
and uncorked a second bottle. “Here's to me. Mud in my eye.”
I don't know why at this stage I was feeling less than fine,
but the cure was very obvious – another glass of wine.
My attention must have wandered then, if only for a minute,
for I saw the pan was smoking, and the steak that I'd left in it
was going up in flames, and so, although I knew I'd rue it,
I emptied out the bottle – it grieved me sore to do it.
The potatoes were so overcooked they'd boiled completely dry,
and were rather badly scorched; I wish I knew the reason why.
Still, I rescued what I could, and laid it sadly on my plate,
and I know you won't believe it, but I thought it tasted great.
So when relations come to dine, perhaps on Christmas day,
I'll serve my speciality – I call it …. Steak Brulé.
(Alternative last line, for American readers :
I'll serve them up my specialty – I call it …. Steak Brulé.)
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
Sometimes I hate the whether.
I don’t know whether I should have a salad or eat a steak.
Where’s a meatierologist when you need one?
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Lights flicker
Blood drips
Brilliant mind
At my finger tips
Don't look now
Gotta think quick
What have I done?
Oh! I know a trick
Slice it up thin
Tiny little bits
So much mess
Hmm, maybe a mince
Red and juicy
Smells so devine
Mouth watering
Just like last time
So heavenly
It should be a crime
Down to the bone
I carve a rhyme
My name etched like stone
A deadly shrine
No where left to go
But back into my mind
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Until next time....
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
I want my poetry to collect dust on the shelves until the pain is covered in layers of felt and can't be felt anymore
Wouldn't that be wonderful
And you-
When I'm gone-
You could take your elbow and polish the covers with your sleeve, wondering why it's hard to breathe when the mushroom clouds explode prematurely into your eyes, making you blind for a moment and unable to peek through the blinds of my ribcage to see if my heart still beats between the pages
Would you want to know if my soul could breathe between all of those layers of letters and lint from your sweaters that clung to me like meat hooks when we parted
Perhaps I write about those things
Perhaps these are premature ponderings, these thoughts of my heart
For I am not one to go unheard
I will write this poetry and it will sit
Fresh and cured and seasoned
Waiting in a meat house for a season
Until either you or I have the sense to eat these words
And come to terms with the fact that we missed our chance to be savored and loved-
Darling, I'm waiting.
For you.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
I smelled a sweet smell a couple days ago. It made me think of you.
I watched a movie yesterday. It made me think of you.
I heard a song last night. It made me think of you.
I saw a man do this thing this morning. It made me think of you.
I saw this sign this afternoon. It made me think of you.
I passed by a store an hour ago. It made me think of you.
I took a breath a moment ago. It made me think of you.
Everything makes me think of you.
I think of you.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:32 PM UTC
i can't help it,
everyday,
whatever I do,
we grow older.
i'd love to grow old with you,
but I'm not ready to give up my youth.
heavenly thoughts in you,
nostalgic thoughts untrue:
take me back to when
bike rides and ice cream ruled my land.
steak on the grill, corn on the cob,
fed my summer trance.
take me back to when
a simple sunset caught my glance.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC