Brine of the Anxious Marinator

Come sit and I will serenade A sad, colossal flub, A tale about a marinade. (Well, truthfully a rub) It is a long and sordid tale; Not sure where to begin. My sensibilities assailed, Yet I must jump on in. The task at hand, a piece of meat Or two, if truth be told. No better than a beggar’s fare, And fast approaching old. No hint of taint upon the nose, Yet lacking freshness too, And so in haste, I set about To see what I could do, could do To see what I could do. But was it really past its prime? A subject for debate… For who exactly is the voice Who sets expiry’s date? For surely more important things Than time should be addressed: The temperature at which it’s stored? Forgive, for I digress.. A base of salt to halt decay With pepper as a mask. A hint of sweet would soon complete My simple little task, my task, My simple little task. Paprika, chili, these as well; We’ll add these to the mix Some onion powder as a base, And garlic just for kicks. And so I laid the bottles out All lined up in a row In alphabetic order, ‘cuz I’m OCD, you know. The wheels began to come off track, Began to spiral down, For should ‘brown sugar’ be the first, Or last as ‘sugar, brown’? (dark brown) Or last as ‘sugar, brown’? These are the trials life throws at us, Yet, most: oblivious. But thinking minds tread carefully And cautiously discuss. These weighty matters now resolved, I next procured a bowl. The choices there, from large to small Were well within control. And so I spooned the spices out, In order and amounts. The record kept was quite precise In numbering the counts, the counts, In numbering the counts. The last to add: the kosher salt, A large, unwieldy box With granules that are oversized Yet smaller than salt rocks. But as I turned the box on end, An action pierced my soul: The top gave way and some fell out, Unmeasured, in the bowl. Now badly shaken, horrified, I had to sit and think, To breathe and recall what I’d learned, Not contemplate the drink, the drink, Not contemplate the drink. The tears did flow, the mind did race, The walls were closing down. There was a spell I wasn’t sure That I would come around. With greatest will, I calmed my mind And took an inventory, To sieze this as a lesson learned And add it to my story. Just then, a flash of clarity: A happenstance, no fault, So now, my pork rub recipe? Take with a grain of salt, of salt. Take with a grain of salt.