Books on Tape

I wish I could watch the Greats eat steak.
Then I'd know if they were the real deal
or not

because writers, as you well know
or should, are the greatest hypocrites--
give them an inch and they want a mile;
give them the mile and they want an inch.

Mine should live for the green or pink
haze before the tornado, should leave
fences to cattle, should understand the
importance of occasionally passing a car
on a quarter-mile straight-away with headlights
coming at you just to stay relevant, should
admit with a hint of sadness that in this
world of positives and negatives
blacks and reds
two crazies don't make a sane
like two wrongs don't make a right

and most importantly
should know the dangers associated
with men who frequent highway rest stops
and that they make for top-notch bar tales.

But that steak.
I'd really love to see them eat that steak.