Anyone Can Cook

 
 
Riddle me this, that, the other thing  
 
Fortune cookies reveal a sliver  
 
Of paper money worth an ideal  
 
An idea  
 
Of a whisper  
 
You say this, that, the other thing  
 
It’s hard to follow  
 
A ghostly waiter  
 
suivez-moi maintenant  

Training you on a new chemical process  
 
An hour to cook, sit, rest, consume  
 
Interned at the holy grounds of black pepper  
 
I mark the gravesite  
 
With my mother’s recipe  
 
Just the way she used to make it