
Sing
to me of the meat, Muse, the meat of brisket and sausage
smoked time and again over hickory wood, once it had been seasoned
by the hallowed sauce of Austin.
Many cities of men it saw and
learned their stomachs,
many bites it was taken of, spices from the open flame,
fighting to sink their taste into the tender meat.
But the sausage could not save
them from disaster, tough as it was--
the recklessness of their own ways destroyed them all,
the blind fools, they devoured cattle not from Texas
and the Barbecue god blotted out the day of their return.
Launch out on the story of the
meat, Muse, lover of Barbecue,
start from where you will--sing for our time too.
And get us some barbecue soon, damn it.
--Michael Hoffman
