The Fury Of Cooks

Herbs, garlic,

cheese, please let me in!

Souffles, salad,

Parker House rolls,

please let me in!

Cook Helen,

why are you so cross,

why is your kitchen verboten?

Couldn't you just teach me

to bake a potato,

to bake a potato,

that charm,

that young prince?

No! No!

This is my county!

You shout silently.

Couldn't you just show me

the gravy. How you drill it out

of the stomach of that bird?

Helen, Helen,

let me in,

let me feel the flour,

is it blinding and frightening,

this stuff that makes cakes?

Helen, Helen,

the kitchen is your dog

and you pat it

and love it

and keep it clean.

But all these things,

all these dishes of things

come through the swinging door

and I don't know from where?

Give me some tomato aspic, Helen!

I don't want to be alone.

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