texas-style in poetry

Whenever I hear the phrase “Texas-Style Barbeque”
I admit to imagining the meat being electrocuted
in the tiniest most adorable individual chairs.
I imagine the hot dog waiting for a call from the governor
I imagine that the governor will never call
the governor is in the suite at a football game
canoodling with fundraisers and lobbyists.
The hamburger has the mind of a child hamburger,
the chicken breast was convicted on faulty DNA evidence,
the sausage shot that cop in clear self-defense but no.
The governor is not calling, not this lonely cook-out
the food-stuffs are all in their tiny chairs
there is going to be a dinner feast soon and
the feast is going to be of a “Texas-Style”
that’s what Texas-style is
fuck Texas, mess with Texas
it is your moral imperative to
mess with Texas, whenever possible.