As one fire ascends the jagged horizon of wooden fence
the nightly creatures, red-faced and salivating, converge toward the glow
carrying torches and tridents and thick slabs of raw meat.
A phosphorescent glow radiates from the coal,
the first smell—bitter and dry—billows from the pit
at the first sizzle, conversations cease.
The men grin their wet teeth
as the aroma summons hunger, curiosity, and unwanted advice.
Then comes the boy—naïve, untrained, and premature—with barbeque sauce
in a squeezable bottle
He is admonished and shamed.
This is the day he learns:
Never disrupt grill euphoria.