FUBU

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Options turn to desperate measures!

Must de-stress!

We head towards our finest hour . . .

Leaving a chemtrail of charcoal vapours circumnavigating the globe:

Home barbecues everywhere await the rare sizzle of steaks and chickens spatchcocked with wings akimbo

Prob'ly doesn't am-meal-yor-rate the pandemic situation - but there's something hypnotic about a barbecue branding pink flesh with char-grilled stripes

I want a sweet potato wrapped in tinfoil - nestled between the hot coals . . . knob of salted butter . . . canary yellow melted over the top

And sausages . . .

Keep turning the sausages - squeezing their skins with tongs . . . their drips of sweat igniting with blushing embers

Put the smartphone away - typical - is it any wonder our collective ignorance and outright nye-ee-tee has convened and gone eh-woll?

So we puppeteer our own misplaced actions:

Involuntary

Automatic . . .

Has this SNAFU taught us nothing . . . ?

Hey - grill some peppers and red onions

Open the icebox - beers all round!


Submitted: April 11, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Jobe Rubens. All rights reserved.

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Comments

tom mcmullen

Imaginative use of language Jobe!

Sat, September 26th, 2020 8:49am

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