one man and his son

Medium/rare rib-eye Man has a penetrating stare,
Arrives prompt at one o'clock,
"No chips, no salad, no sauce",
Each Monday, he repeats with force,
"Just steak" and our generic Diavolo,
Spicy, but minus cherry tomatoes,
"And do not over-cook the pasta",
(Whatever you do), is implied by his
Menacing silence.

The cold blue pools which he uses
As excuses for eyes rang bells,
Reminded me of someone else,
A boy from years before
With a personality disorder.
I imagined him a cult-leader, master-deceiver,
And two friends attempted suicide
After spending too much time
At his manipulative side.

Fed something to smoke by Rib-eye Man,
The archetypal obsessive compulsive
Disorder-ing, compartmentalist Dad,
Arabic look and a heavy hand.
When they arrived together my hands shook,
As a righteous youth I'd seen straight through
His son! And as reward I received
Attempted phlegm in face (it failed), but
No wonder I hesitate to hand over his plate ...

When it's accompanied
By a shining knife for his
Dripping, bloody steak.