I WANT TO SERVE FOOD TO STRANGERS
Age gives us odd perspectives.
Suddenly, I am obsessed again.
This time with food.
I want to make a meal out of the planet.
I want to feed you.
I want to feed my friends
grapes and marinated chicken livers
lightly sautéed in butter —
all on dishes of hammered gold.
For you, I will raise
the young calf in a green field,
let it drink the milk of its mother,
eat the best grains.
I will stroke its shoulders,
and treat it kindly
until the day I kill …