Plots, Plans, Pots, and Pans

 What do I do now…

That the table I set 

On which I planned 

To devour you again, 

whole,

Has been cleared?


The carefully arranged plates:

Lifted away before any course, 

Only the golden rimmed chargers 

Cotillion perfect table setting 

with its linen napkins wrapped 

in tidy floral bows

 (ready to be unwrapped the same way I intended to unwrap you)  

Remain 


Not even soup! 

Though a cheese plate 

with a decent crusty French bread  

may have been appropriate

to sop up my sap. 


At least she left 

the Prosecco glass, 

Shaped like Marie Antoinette’s

Tiny cups 

Filled to the brim with a vintage 

I should’ve sampled a long time ago

So that when the waiter asks, 

“Are you doing ok?”

I can say yes

Think fast enough to cover, recover 


…I make a plan to act up

As usual, 

take a lil sip

And leave the rest to fizz out flat

When…


Surprisingly: the dessert still arrives 

And it might be a keeper…


Crème brûlée, thin and smooth crust, 

easy to crack,  

Drawing Nasca lines as I tap

Delightful brown sugar glaze 

Delicate and earthy

Strong vanilla cinnamon flavor 

In just the right size and taste  

So as not to ruin my health 

For the want of my hungry mouth. 


The perfect Oxford comma

A lemon twist 

perched on a martini 

With a less sour effect. 

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