On Being Done

I’m pretty much done
though still rare or raw

Too old
too poor
too ugly

not much to grill, and
it doesn’t seem like
I’m cooking at all

there isn’t anyone
who would listen to my
je ne sais quoi

yeah I know
I keep repeating myself —
I only know a few
silly phrases
and I suppose,
make-believe charm, but

really I think maybe
if I were given a magic wand
I’d use it responsibly
to seem human just for you

Please tell me that
what I feel is right:

You are magical
with barbecue sauce, and

I’m not such a bad chef, because
my onions are sautéed with love

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