Lines In My Head

Exotic. The deafening boom that emanated from hundreds of firecrackers. The smoke rising from the remnants of the brightly-colored fireworks. The clanging of pans and saucers from our excited neighbor. The usual extravagant and flamboyant countdown on the tube hosted by throngs of showbiz personalities. And the smell of that mouth-watering T-bone steak lying lazily at our kitchen table. All were clear and obvious signs that the start of a new year was upon us. Well maybe, except for that delicious steak. Nooooms. Hmmm. That steak. I still recall that flavorful aroma that made me dash to the table after the clock struck twelve. I then sat on the chair and skillfully sliced the meat from the bone, carefully noting the delightful juice oozing out of the crevasses of the fibrous delicacy in front of me. The next step was to pour the old reliable steak sauce over the steak followed by a quick stab from my mighty fork. With help from my stable hands and flexible arms, the sumptuous