Monday, January 21, 2008

In Praise of Bar-B-Que
















It’s summer…

another
4th of July
has slipped past…

fireworks,
boat races,
the girls
in swimsuits,
the families
on the beach,
everywhere
the ‘tomato red’
sunburns,
and lots
and lots
of food and drink…

where I live…
here in
the south land…
that always
means a lot
of mouth
watering
bar-b-q…

sticky, yummy,
stomach filling,
heart stopping
bar-b-q…
prepared by the
grill full,
the rack and pit,
and truckload…

after
my 57 years
in the moss draped
south…
it’s still damn good…

which causes
me to wonder…
what is this
bar-b-q lust
that runs hot
through the veins
of we southern
born sons
and daughters?

were
we all weaned
on Louisiana Hot sauce
and Tabasco?..

as infants…
was red pepper
dusted over our
cradles and cribs
by dark skinned
fairies smelling
of oak smoke
and molasses?…

did the fat round
shapes of those
tasty pink
porkers…
all muddy
and smelly
from the wallow
behind the barn..
a seemingly
repulsive image…
did it all trigger
a primitive
carnivores
response?..
causing saliva
to flow
and lips to
smack with
pleasured
anticipation?…

it did indeed…
with smiles
all around…
big white toothed,
sticky red smiles
that reflected
the joy of a full belly
and the sting
of pepper sauce
clinging
to tender lips…

yet,
I dare say,
no one will
ever have the
real answer
to ‘why’…
a timeless and
unanswerable
‘wondering’
that just ‘is’…
it’s in our veins…

suffice to say:
we love our
bar-b-q…
we need our
bar-b-q…
it is
life sustaining…
like the food
of the gods…
hot,
sweet,
tangy,
bar-b-q…

although Mr. Webster
has the word
written as
‘Barbecue’…

Bar-B-Q
is the accepted
and official
spelling…

if there is doubt
check the spelling
on any
and all signs
on the highways
and back roads
below the
familiar demarcation
of the Mason-Dixon line…

those
mom and pop stands…
with their boiled peanuts,
collard and turnip greens,
and fresh bar-b-cue…
they want those folks
in the shiny Buicks
and Pontiacs
to see them as they
come cruising
the highway
at 65 MPH…

the signs
are large, colorful,
and often crude
in execution…
but
if that shouldn’t
happen to stop them…
the maddening
aroma of oak smoke,
roasting pork,
and pop’s homemade
bar-b-cue sauce
sure enough will…

each new stand
with a secret
family recipe
handed down from
grandfather
to father
and father
to son…
a magical
concoction
that cannot be
bought, stolen,
or torn from the lips
of dying old men…
steeped in family
tradition and pride…
let no man dare
try to pry such
a masterful blend
from the guardians
of the sauce…

I must add…
I pity
the big pink pig
that evolves above
his porcine kin…
learns to speak
the human tongue…
when one day he
stands upright
on pudgy hind legs…
proudly strolling
into a southern town…
in a pressed dapper suit
and tall top hat…
only to woefully
find himself
the tasty object
of the evening meal…

for I’m afraid
there is no pig
that can ever…
or will ever…
talk himself out
of a tangy hot
bar-b-q sauce…

oh no…
no way…
no how…

R. C. Arquette 9/4/07

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Heat Lightning




Spanish moss
hanging still
in the branches
of the big Oak trees…

overhead
a big full Moon
keeps peeking
from between
long dark drifting clouds…

no breeze
to rattle the palmettos…
no breeze
to stir the thick warm air…
no breeze
to push the cotton drapes…
no damn breeze at all…

woke up
from a restless sleep
all wet and sticking
to Egyptian cotton sheets…
elbows on the windowsill
staring through heavy eyes
into the dark of night…

in the distant sky
a spidery dance illuminates
the clouds in white and gray…
flashes with no thunder
no sound to get in the way…
shooting out
through humid air
to remind you summer’s here…

as if we needed reminding…
the sweat does that very well…
noting in frustration
there is no breeze
to rattle the palmettos…
no breeze
to stir the thick warm air…
no breeze
to push the cotton drapes…
no damn breeze at all…

so I watch the show
remaining hopeful
while dozing in a chair…
waiting by the open window
for a breath…
a movement…
of some cool inviting air…

while all I seem to get
is more
heat lightning…

R.C. Arquette
7/29/06