December 19th, 2008


The Charred Heart

I wrote this poem back in May as a parody to some poetry a creepy stalker was sending to someone on my friends list, basing it off his stanza "your heart; charred of tenderness; like fragile meat left too long on a grill..."

Your heart
That beating organ in your chest
I'll crack you open
And dispose of the rest

My grill
White hot coals waiting
Your heart sizzles
I'm salivating

With hand-rubbed spice
Finger your aorta
I hate my life

With steak knife in hand
Succulent meat
Stike up the band!

I'm such a cannibalistic slut
If I can't have your love
You'll disgest in my gut.

It was well received and we laugh about it to this day. Yesterday, I mentioned that I was going to be grilling burgers. "Charred heart burgers?" was the reply.

I used to spend a lot of time making my own patties. I always started with ground sirloin and added my own spices. From a trick I learned from my father I would place the ball of meat between sheets of wax paper and flatten them using two heavy plates for a perfectly round disc of meat. But that was a lot of work. We were at Sam's Club several years ago trying to think of menu items for my inlaw's visit when I spied a box of 12 pre-formed 100% Angus beef patties for something like $13. What a deal! And so easy too! I've been buying them ever since.

We haven't been grocery shopping in a week or so in preparation for the kids being out-of-state over the holidays, and we're running low on supplies. My wife suggested hamburgers. I went to our local, small-town grocery store and discovered they only had non-Angus patties. Oh well, it was that or I was making them by hand. So, against my better judgment, I bought them and brought them home.

Later, when I pulled them out of the freezer to open them, I was horrified at what I saw, and the memory of the question I was asked earlier haunted me!

"Charred heart burgers?"

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