wife
at a rib roasting class
down
at the elementary
school.
a late night
three-hour session,
non-credit,
detailing all the things
we need to know
about cuts of meat
and au jus.
we learn through
an excruciating lecture
what temperature
to turn the stove on, etc.
blah, blah, blah.
we're both
wearing chef hats
and aprons.
when we arrive,
clicking our sharp knives
together.
like her
the only culinary success
i've had lately
has been PBJ's on
Wonder bread,
her too.
it's meant to be.
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