Frying Pan

I woke up dreaming about my twelve-inch cast-iron frying pan.
I was drying it with a blue dish towel so it wouldn't rust.
After ten years it is finally black, shiny, and seasoned, a culinary
Football field for onions and garlic, tackled until exhausted and scooped
On my toasted bread. A fast pizza for an impatient home cook who eats her lunch
Standing in the kitchen.

How can I be a painter, I have no attention span past twenty minutes?
My energy is focused, then zing.
This has always been true.
The dyslexic editor, the stuttering actor, the newscaster with a speech impediment;
We are attracted to our most difficult challenges.
It takes years to be seasoned enough
For things to cook fast.