He played a duet recorded on tape
years ago when she was young and virgin
full of dreams long before marriage with me
I had heard her crooning once or twice but
I never knew she’s such a good singer
her talent died, for no one cared even
she forgot, now blames me for all her woes
and all that she couldn’t become, or lost in
cares of home and motherhood following
marital rape time and again as price paid
for life to be alive without singing
When of food we did talk
she would balk
of course
to feed on horse
and quail
at tasting snail
but who knew
squirrel stew
was taboo
and don't you know
altho'
I'd never cadge a badger
eating crow
was a no-no
thus dining out
was an ordeal
for there's no knowing
what could be our meal
as going hungry is not fun
when it came to the crunch
I've had ants bat and snake
for lunch
As we sit here eating talking about life’s lessons
and all that was taught
We laugh about the box and bottle
and the puppy that he brought
Hide yo food in the microwave before it gets sold
Are one of the many fun stories that’s told
But what do you do when the sex, love and feelings are gone
When the one who lost it still lingers on
I look at peace around the world
He looks at me wishing I was still his girl
I can talk and talk throughout the day
Yet he can’t really get out the words to say
I really like the way we laugh a bunch
So what’s wrong with breakfast, dinner, or lunch
Sitting down chillin’ is really cool
Cause there’s nothing different about this dude
What we had was us doing our thing
We ended up separated without a wedding ring
I’m focused now on the man I’m with
But he is still jealous, just a lil bit
He has a good woman in his life
So I told him move on and do what’s right
He’s part of my past that has made me stronger
For this relationship has endured its course
And we are no longer
However we still cool, nothing more and that’s a fact
So Lunch after Love, ain’t nothing wrong with that
orange pekoe sun burn
skin cooking like raw bacon
mosquitoes eat me
The sky is blood red
The common bird is the crow
Human flesh is lunch
Who would you like to have lunch with?
With Mylène Farmer, I think,
Love is important,
But less than a beautiful rondeau,
Who would you like to have lunch with?
You have to sleep alone at night
Or drink a good whiskey,
Should you think about friends?
With Mylène Farmer, I think,
Or this cousin Catherine,
His voice is a touching sapphire,
Love is important,
But less than a beautiful rondeau.
Avec qui aimeriez vous déjeuner ?
Avec Mylène Farmer, je crois,
C’est important l’amour,
Mais moins qu’un beau rondeau,
Avec qui aimeriez vous déjeuner ?
Faut il dormir seul la nuit
Ou boire un bon whisky,
Faut il penser à ses amis ?
Avec Mylène Farmer, je crois,
Ou cette cousine Catherine,
Sa voix est un touchant saphir,
C’est important l’amour,
Mais moins qu’un beau rondeau.
they swim in masses
being watched by customers
soon on their plates
I ate cookies for lunch and spoiled dinner
but somehow I never seem thinner.
Stop drinking fruit juice unless
it's zero sugar for me now best.
I love everything about steak except the price
eating a spoonful of steak sauce must suffice.
Fish is fishy so gotta deep fry it southern style
crispy cornmeal batter makes it palatable somehow.
Fried chicken needs pickled jalapenos with that heat
and an old fashion coleslaw milky cool and sweet.
What happen to that Old Fashion Loaf lunch meat
a flavor unique and once a great sandwich to eat.
Coco Cola classic is now Diet Coke
consuming less calories is no joke.
I am not overweight I am fat
enjoying too much food a reason for that.
Once a friend of mine invited me for lunch,
a celebration he planned for his culinary book launch.
I was hesitant to join for my stomach was upset,
but he pleaded with me, he couldn’t change the date.
I decided to not enter into a friendly row,
but to go and occupy a chair in the back row.
While the fervent food rested untouched going stale
we proposed a toast to his success as a chef of style.
Matching the rhythm of our warm and lyrical whine
rosy wine swirled in pallid glasses with metal sheen.
I was delighted to see on the table dishful curd,
so much good for my stomach, with no discord.
The fragrance of famous basmati rice I saw rise,
I favored to have it instead of bread at any price.
Spring onion shards with smell of spring in fish curry
added to the gastronomic delight, a treat far to carry.
Meat in gloomy gravy with emerald layer of basil leaf
met the cooking acumen of any expert chef.
My friend’s hospitality won the hearts of one and all,
we departed before dusk thanking him without fail.
For the food we expressed abysmal appreciation loud,
as much as our bountiful minds could sincerely sprout.
Peanut butter stuck tight to
the roof of my mouth,
Jelly dripped out and went
traveling south,
Smack went my lips as I tried
hard to chew,
A stuck- together mess that
was purple and blue,
Wisdom says use a fork, but
a sticky hand will do!
Just when I was feeling great,
"There's no free lunch", that's what she said.
I wondered, had I been misled?"
"Do you mean the lunch that's on my plate,
or the one that's in my head?"
In our younger days we met for dinner;
Now it’s mainly lunch.
We needn’t rush; since we’re retired,
Time slots we don’t crunch.
We pack up meals we’ve ordered,
For we’ve barely eaten half
And when waiters ask, “Dessert or wine?”
We shake our heads and laugh.
We stop a stranger, asking if
He’ll snap our photo please.
He sees four senior citizens
So he, of course, agrees.
But what he cannot understand
(No reason that he should)
Is that, though we look old to him,
There is the likelihood
That we’ve lived through so many things
He’s only read about
And though he’ll have his own adventures,
There is little doubt
That we add up to so much more
Than what his pix reveal –
Four smiling alte kakers*
Clutching what’s left of our meal.
*a Yiddish expression meaning old farts
The night rain cooled the following day, making it feel like winter. Climate change continues to wreck the weather, and spring days bloom in winter. Earthworm carcasses rot in drying puddles. Freshly cut grass soaks the air and drowns the lungs. A murder of crows pecks at the bloated insect bodies floating atop the grass. Their joyous caws echo across the overcast sky. The feathers on their swollen bellies gleam from my car's headlights.
"I'll have the 3-piece chicken strip combo with hot sauce, and a medium Cherry Coke." A crow waits below the drive-thru window.
"Here's your order." Medium Cherry Coke crosses the facing windows. "Than—" The crow strikes the brown bag and spills the order on the floor.
"Please pull around to the front, and I'll redo your order." The crow's laughter reaches the front of the building and follows the fast-food server back inside.
Today was the day to harvest a big organic banana bunch
When they begin to ripen in three days or so
Then it's time to devour some for a nutritious lunch
Mrs Peeck and husband Clem
provide refuge from my family home
No hugs but felt the love
had no children of their own
Afternoon tea of homemade bread
blackcurrant jam and scalded cream
Home grown fruits preserved in Fowlers jars
a meal at night, silver beet was cooked with steam
Unannounced I'd come to stay
overnight a comfy bed
Dream about old cars and bellows
found in Clems machinery shed
Next day home made lunch was packed
down the hill backto school through long blades of grass
Mrs Peeck we'd ask her age
a question that she'd always pass
Footnote: For those who are interested there is an on line recipe for scalded cream (clotted cream)
The cream I refer to was from a house cow milked by hand
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