Out For Dinner

I smell spicy meat, hear it sizzle as a server walks by.
The place is glowing with green and red string lights,
tinsel wrapped around every chandelier, mistletoe
dangling from the flat screen near the bar.
We sit at a booth across from each other. My side rocks,
and wiggles each time the person behind me moves.
A baby girl eating with her family smiles at me, a mouth
full of rice and beans. She waves, I wave back.
Our food arrives, pork tacos for me and a beast-like
steak dinner for him.
My tacos taste like barbecue pig, they're wet with
sauce and grease. I lick off my finger tips and
the corners of my mouth.
Our server walks by, half empty glasses of water, dirty plates,
and used napkins on a tray, on the tray at first.
From the tray to the floor falls the dirty plates. From the tray to my lap
falls the half empty glasses. From the tray to my plate
falls the used napkins. Bon appetite!




This poem is dedicated to my dear friend Stephen Ryan Jackson. Thank you for encouraging and supporting both of my arts. Would do this night again with you anytime Tuna!