Smothered Cover Ups

Hmmm...
Flavored to taste,
Deliciously fried or baked chicken.
Simmering slowly,
Under homemade gravy.
Awaiting for the cook,
To begin to serve on plates.

Stewed boned and meaty goat.
Only Jamaicans can best do.
Either to carry out from a restaurant.
Or sit at a table.
As the mouths of patrons drool anticipating,
The pigeon peas and brown rice to eat.

Secretly kept documents.
To keep but claim,
Not knowing what they contain.
Picked and selected to hide away in boxes.
Found to remain hidden to stay,
For reasons later to deny...
Knowing them to be classified.

Hmmm...
Yet,
The ingredients are quite familiar.
To the ones who know,
Exactly what they brew to stir in a pot.
With intentions to bring attention,
To what they have and do...
That brings more people to wonder how,
They keep coming back...
For more questions to ask.
Hoping to discover something to satisfy.
With a desire to uncover a smothering up,
A concealing to have revealed.

'I didn't expect this at all.
Is there more of this?'

'That depends.'

'On what?'

'The cost and price to pay.
And who can afford to sit and wait,
Hopefully patiently.
For me to call...
The originator who created the blend.
To get from them permission,
Before I say anything else.
Done to do to have you believe,
I purposely intended to deceive you!'

'But...
Aren't you the chef?
Are you not the cook?'

'Well...
I know these days it is easy to assume.
But...
You shouldn't judge a book by its cover!
Or the one who announces,
What to expect on the menu.
Remember...
How one looks,
To be impressively dressed?
Can be deceiving.
Especially if the kitchen is restricted.
And off limits.

Now...
Do you want more of this,
Or not?
I can give what I have left,
In bits and pieces.
You know...
A little here a little there.
Just to keep your expectations,
High enough to momentarily...
To stay that way.
Until you are completely satisfied.'

'How long will that take?'

'Good question.
But you know what?'

'What?'

'Your guess is as good as mine.'