Playing With Spice
© 2012 by Stephen Rice, Janet Rayor

There’s tension tonight in the kitchen.     
There’s a sizzling spice in the air
You turn with a whirl of your apron,    
but the maitre d’ isn’t there
A flame erupts on the stovetop.    
A wineglass falls to the floor 
and try as you may to regain control,
it’s no use. You’re paying the price,  
for playing with spice

The knives have been freshly sharpened.  
The stock pot’s beginning to boil.
You hurriedly toss the new salads,  
with specific infusions of oil.
The guests gather ‘round the chef’s table   
when a voice cries out in alarm
she turns to you,  and you understand 
it’s too late.   You’re paying the price,  
for playing with spice

The temperature’s hot in the kitchen – 
there’s a sizzling spice in the air
You run for the walk in cooler – 
but there’s no escape even there
At first it all seemed so adventurous – 
A pinch, a peck, why not 
now try as you may you can’t get past
you’ve a taste for paying the price, 
for playing with spice.