A poet Rob is certainly not, but a big bet he surely lost. Rob missed the shot from the top of the key and now he cooks for poetry geeks. So at the grill he makes a stop, to smoke some fabulous pork chops. He offers friends some legs of chicken with a coffee flavour hidden the scent of orange lingers in the air as duck gets passed around with flare. It is a luscious barbecue feast, for Rob can’t rhyme but cooks at least.
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