Ninja Restaurant
I walked her home
Chatting aimlessly of nothing
Finding words to fill time
As we slithered by the Betty Crocker Shop
Sweet fragrances
Of apple pie and coffee
In a death grip
Pulled us both inside
And forced us to sit at a table
The waitress
A knowing accomplice
Snickering behind her receipt book
Scribbled down mounds of orders
That were forced upon us by the heated oven
Three hundred pounds later we left
Copyright © Cj Krieger | Year Posted 2011
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