I Need The Heat

I need the heat the clash of the steel,
the flash of the blade,
to savor bouquets of sage and thyme
and the sweet aroma of cinnamon and cloves.
The sizzling of hot oil,like fireworks in summer.
The scrape of metal on metal,
like sword against shield.
The fire on my fingertips and the
cool tool in my hand.
Hot and cold, never inbetween.
The chrome-ware with a silver sheen.
The colors of organic, deep purples and reds.
Cutting boards and server trays dancing over my head.
The silky texture of a perfectly marbled loin,
two parts to the recipe that I have to conjoin.
The plate is as delicate as a whipped eggwhite.
Commands barking at me from the left and the right.
The tension is on and strung very tight.
Simmering truth so dire to desire.
Served up, because I live in the fire.

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