Home > Poetry > A Con-artist Comes Clean

A Con-artist Comes Clean

Every time folks eat my barbecue some well meaning but ignorant fool will ask me for the recipe for my sauce.

I happily give it to them, if they are persistent enough I’ll hint at my “secret ingredient.”

It’s all flim-flam.

It’s like a magic show

Behind all the hand waving and abracadabra of sauces, rubs, and mops is this

Meat, salt, hardwood coals and time.

The rest is a con.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. charcoalgypsy
    May 27, 2010 at 5:21 am

    I like this. It’s simple, but sophisticated at the same time. I like the fact that this poem can serve as a metaphor for many things. Nice work!

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