standing in front of the meat section
at the grocery
store.
picking up one
steak and setting down another.
he's wearing
an orange vest
and big boots
caked with mud.
his face is tired.
his white road helmet
is slipping
off his head. the light
is still on.
i guess he's trying to decide
on dinner.
he sees me looking
over his shoulder and says,
sorry, am i in your way?
no, i tell him, no rush,
then point out to him
that the rib eyes are a better
cut of meat,
more flavor.
look for marbling.
i drag my finger across
the package
along the white fat imbedded
in the meat.
he puts back the top sirloin
and nods.
okay, okay. he says.
i hand him a thick pack
of three rib eyes on sale.
never get the thin
kind, i tell him,
tapping my finger on the plastic
wrapping,
especially if you're grilling
they'll cook too fast
and be overdone and tough.
and don't be scared
of salt,
dry the meat off and salt it down.
good, he says good.
great advice.
thank you.
do you mind if you walk
over to the produce
section with me?
i need to pick out some potatoes too.
sure, sure.
let's go.
have you thought about dessert
yet?
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