Home > Poetry > Thus Spake the Pit-Master

Thus Spake the Pit-Master

Once my boy asked me,

what did people eat before barbecue?

Now I’ve heard some head scratchers in my day, but he had me good and stumped, cause I can’t even imagine a world without barbecue.

I told him he’d better ask an atheist,

because to me a world without barbecue is a world without God.

I’m sure you think I overstate my case,

and I freely admit we pit-masters have been known to weave a tall-tale or two, but in this case I’m as serious as a bag full of rattlesnakes.

If you’d ever been up close to a real honest to goodness barbecue pit, you know it too.

I see God every day. He’s in those wisps of blue smoke rising from my smokestacks,

And the smell.. who else could make that smell? So sweet it makes the finest perfumes smell cheap by comparison, but strong at the same time, the the hardwoods that made the smoke.

Can I feel him,

you bet I do, God and I get as close as He and Adam on the Sistine every time I feel that perfect give on a rack o’ ribs as I lift them with the my tongs.

Hear him, in the crunch of the cracklings, a sound even sweeter than my Dear momma singing Amazing Grace.

So I looked at him and said,

“Why don’t we leave that question to the atheists, and pass me another rib.”

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