Subterranean Picnic

The cauldrons hunch,
squat, stainless
steel line backers ready for the scrimmage,
spigots rhythmically dripping off their gaping,
gleaming lips.
The grating match inflames a distant roar
beasts pawing at dusty floors ready to feed
like sharks on a wounded seal.
The match ignites the pilot,
the aisle bursts into steaming life.
Water gushes into the waiting cauldrons
gulping with steam,
souters crack
frozen snow peas and iced greens
striking smoking oil.

Steam fills the aisle,
our stained aprons cling to our legs
wet tissue above our black boots.
Turmeric and basil smoke glaze our eyes,
snapping the hairs in the far back of our noses
like snickering sharp toothed creatures.
We wade through the scented sauna as in a hazy dream.

The head chef roars through blanket layers of mist,
a Southern bull cursing and telling jokes
fit to make a biker blush.
His silver spoon dips in here and there
followed by clouds of cayenne
dusting through the heavy wet air,
gobs of mustard
leaving the food in the wake of the Cajun after-taste.
A steam pipe clogs.
The cauldron buckles and coughs
sending the spinach splashing,
groping,
a green pond beast trying to escape its metallic shores.
Our paddles beat it back into submission.

Boiling water hits the floor,
our rubber boots slosh through a searing tide,
an ankle deep swirl,
blood red beet water and pasta starch.
Through the mists the rovers peer
like Golems descending upon a subterranean picnic.
Two massive trolls,
their cigarette breaths chuckle at bad jokes,
through scarred yellow teeth.
They scoop the food
cramming it into stainless steel pots.
Back they limp through the steam
two swamp beasts slaving to appease the masses
with the salts of our sweat.

The waters drain from the cauldrons,
spiral vortex sweep the souters clean
pooling on the floor about the kitchen drains.
The squat, stainless
steel line backers sit,
the flickering fluorescents
dully gleaming off their gapping steel lips.

By Emile Stansberry

© Emile Stansberry 1995