The Chef

chf

I’ve made sandwiches
So bad-ass
They’ll rob you at knifepoint
 
Vichyssoise so smooth
It could talk
A nun into the sack
 
I’ve served duck confit
Dripping with
The tears of an angel
 
Dover sole, nuanced
Delicate,
Viagra for the soul!
 
The two-faced Janus,
The critic
Smiles right to your face
 
But hurls invective
Like vomit,
Bilious opinions
 
At least I create,
Reviews are
Empty, ball-less, wordplay
 
And I’M the asshole?
Love my crew
Even my dishwasher
 
Carlos busts his ass,
No sick days
For the past seven years
 
Nothing but respect
For that guy,
For that fucking wetback
 
They sent a plate back?
Undercooked?
The fucking arrogance
 
of the uninformed,
Tin palates
With no sense to savor