“Birthday Dinner”

I found this poem in my journal from nearly two years ago on Brad’s birthday.  It made me laugh so I thought I would share.

Behind schedule.

Light grill

and when hot enough,

put chicken on.

Wait.

Go to check.

Barely cooked.

“I’ll give it another couple of minutes”,

betray and turn oven up.

Transfer chicken,

fretting over lost charcoal.

Sides wait patiently

for their star.

Open oven,

not enough.

Make the difficult decision

that often leads to destruction

“TIME TO BROIL!”