Food for thought

I have recently begun eating my words
Boiled they slide from the page like a pat of butter
Across the bottom of a heated sauté pan
But their texture and flavor is bland
Like overcooked polenta
Rib spackling filling but overall
Lacking
So I try again
Chopping and dicing
Spicing them up with chilies and cardamom
Stir frying then serving over saffron rice
They become lost in the seasoning
Artifice masking for meaning
Baking I decide
Three hundred and seventy five degrees
For forty five minutes only left my words dry
Sticking to the bottom of the tin
So I threaded my utterances onto a skewer
An orderly syntax shish kabob
Marinated in olive oil and pepper infusion
Roasted over glowing charcoal briquettes
Of mesquite and cherry wood
Close
But not quite good enough
For dishing up to persnickety company
Finally I just rinse them in a colander
Under the tap
Pile them free of pretense
Raw into the wooden bowl
Sitting on the countertop
To be absentmindedly snacked upon
While reading a good book