Dave the Angry Suburban Poet - My Grill

Written by Sean Nitchmann

 

My name is Dave, I am … the angry suburban poet.

 

Behold the keeper of the flame

My grill and I shall hunger tame

Bring forth our victim to the feast

I’ll skewer and roast that barnyard beast

 

Napkins, paper plates and sporks I’ll get

You spread the cloth on our patio dinette set

I’ll tend the encore and prepare my palate

Whilst you prepare the potato salad

 

The fickle flames frolic but heed my instruction

For I am the chef, hence my tools of construction

Stand back kids, I’m executing my culinary art

Whoa, if I’m not first executed by a rogue Lawn Dart

 

Ah yes, the perfect suburban backyard scene

The steak’s bloody red, the lawn’s grassy green

The neighbors all envy our life, so complete

They’re drawn to the fence by the smell of my meat

 

How now, what is this, clouds have darkened the sky

Does this quickening wind mean a storm is nigh?

Do these drops of rain dare to conspire

To dampen my flame, to extinguish my fire?

 

The brewing tempest sends my family asunder

They cower inside to hide from the thunder

Never fear, Dave’s at the helm and I know just what to do

Curse you Gods, you’ll not end this barbeque

 

I’ll ride out this storm I’ll stand my ground

I’ve never lightening keep me down

So bring me more meat, and trim off the fat

If you can’t do it quick, I’m roasting the cat