Eat Those Words

I’m going to try.
Laid out like that,
they look appetizing enough.

I try.
The clash of flavors is…
interesting.  Interesting texture,
too. 

I try again a little later.
Now they’re cold,
and the congealed fat
that once seemed to add so much
is just so much glop.

I’m still hungry
so I snack a little while later.
Junk food, strangely aromatic,
still unsatisfying.

I put myself and my hollow gut
to bed wishing I had taken
more time in preparation,
stocked up on better ingredients.

Can’t live like this — should have
just had something simple,
something I knew ahead of time
would fill me up.

But I will try again, I know.
Have to try a million recipes.
Something in me makes it
so I have to have a thousand pots going
at once and time everything to come out
at the same time perfectly delectable,
all the seasonings working together,
no gristle, no fat beyond what’s needed for savor,
a good meal at last, and one
I might be willing to share.