Stain, Statue and Concert

Reading a poem about a horse with a stain on the author’s page. Patron ate something saucy, as he read of a war statue, forking or spooning probably pasta or slurping poetry, precariously, I ponder, as I wait for the oven timer to deliver dinner. Deviled ham quiche - the aesthetic embodiment of eggs & cream, cheddar, onions & cayenne firmly held in its shell. I’ll eat in the early afternoon and get a lift to see Cheap Trick & Rod Stewart. Not the cheap seats, but the special ones saved for the limo driver’s guests; he will be chatting it up behind the stage or just standing by. I can’t get past a couple pages, having stopped at the blot. A library lie that these hard-covered words are all mine, well his; a-muse-d at a blank page, how I’ve filled its plate, and how I will separate my pie from my eye.