I am a self-defined chef
ready to ravage the
spice shelf.
This is new recipe,
a storm of raw to me,
a formula of vittles extra play,
harrowing foodstuff pottery.
Made with my own hands
I synthesize the dish,
rock-bottom without
experience per se.
Human heartbreak
here, among novel
cup of walnuts…
a dash of salt
a pinch of pepper
a smattering
of cinnamon, and
I am shiver snap,
a chop of shatter
slashing diced cube.
I loiter like fog
over beef tips,
poke holes in accent
of Romaine lettuce,
exclaim a loud, Voilà!
with precise application
of Sauce Béarnaise.
I am fulfilled, yet far
removed, for now,
from any indication
of my pleasure.
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