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Poem	Herbs, garlic, cheese, please let me in! Souffles, salad, Parker House rolls, please let me in! Cook Helen, why are you so cross, why is your kitchen verboten? Couldn't you just teach me to bake a potato, to bake a potato, that charm, that young prince? No! No! This is my county! You shout silently. Couldn't you just show me the gravy. How you drill it out of the stomach of that bird? Helen, Helen, let me in, let me feel the flour, is it blinding and frightening, this stuff that makes cakes? Helen, Helen, the kitchen is your dog and you pat it and love it and keep it clean. But all these things, all these dishes of things come through the swinging door and I don't know from where? Give me some tomato aspic, Helen! I don't want to be alone.
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