Ode to Steak

(Publisher’s Note: We can in no way take credit for this. It was written sometime around 2002 by a fellow-writer. Seeing that it does not currently exist elsewhere on the Web, we felt it should not pass into the ether without a more permanent place in the Blog ether, either.)

It moos, in grasslands under sun,
Traipsing carefree, yet rarely runs.
Like me, it eats all day for fun.
I love thee steak.

From birth, as mewling calf knee-high,
To later life, when you fill my eye
With beefy joy, slaughtered, you die.
How I love thee steak.

Oh sure, you could have been a cow,
Giving sweet milk to youths and how
I think, what a waste—cook that shit now.
Damn, I love thee steak.

Thy matted coat may never shine,
Grisly countenance hardened over time
To rugged visage, all girth and grime,
Still, I love thee steak.

For it’s not looks, but loin I crave,
Your spice-rubbed rib eye me enslaves.
Enthralled, the hunger pangs you stave,
I love thee steak.

To think, you used to be sedate,
In sheltered farm in many a state,
Now your charred carcass adorns my plate.
Yea, I love thee steak.

Of course, some say beef’s not for them.
To which I say, “Are you, ahem,
some tree-hugging hippie? Have a burger, friend.”
Verily, I love thee steak.

For without you, chili would be veggie,
And that sucks more than any wedgie.
My god! The thought just makes me edgy.
I love thee steak.

I grill you or I fry you fine
On top of stove, I make you mine.
I think about you all the time.
Oh, I love thee steak.

I dream of you when deep in sleep,
In mounded slabs and endless heaps,
When I awake—no steak!—I weep.
Ah, I love thee steak.

And one day when they lay me down.
In my clogged veins, what will be found?
Undigested meat—like 90 pounds.
Because I loved my steak.

And when I’ve finally passed away,
To heaven’s shores I’ll make my way,
To eat fine meat with Christ each day.
God, I love thee steak.

—Author known


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