Certain Meats
Ann DeWitt

"I'm a hearty eater," I say.
He's more of a picker. His handwriting reads like the flat line on a monitor, with two spikes for the capital letters.

After my shift, Wiley takes me home in his Bronco. For a while, we sit in his kitchen and kick our legs out under our chairs. I ask him about the use of several utensils. He lays them out on the counter. This is used to core and peel apples. This one is to chop hearts of palm.
On the shelf over the stove he's got a small, plastic timer. He uses it to cook certain meats. A rump roast takes forty minutes. A steak is cooked in rotation, six to seven minutes on each side of the cut.
Wiley sets the timer for thirty minutes.
"Rib Roast," he says.

The next morning, I take Wiley out driving to meet a friend.
"How long?" he asks.
"Short-ribs," I say.

When we arrive, the friend is consulting a catalogue. The catalogue is full of utensils that you use on the body. Together, we flip through the pages. This one feels like a thicket, I say. This one like a small series of balls.

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