Imagine the first fire, the doubletakes

Among the vegans, cold, dark, wet: Cave guy

Strikes flint and, boom, you're grilling mammoth steaks,

You're holding hands, you're hooking up, you're dry.

And (years of R&D) it catches on,

Brick ovens, candlelight, of course appalling

Losses, but still, fondue, filet mignon,

And the three-alarm, fanned fire of your first calling

Until there's no more call for you, you box

Up your life's work, archive the ardencies,

The once hot, test -tube topics, and retire

To country climes, keeping an eye on the phlox

In your old field, avuncular now, at peace

With not quite having set the world

                                                                on fire.

##

See p 301, The Swallow Anthology of New American Poets. Edited by David Yezzi