sobering
North Star
shadows and a steeple
following the road to the bank
and another
cashing out
I hold on
to my husband’s hand
up inclines
up stairs
up and up
we’ve never been there
seeing the duskbow arch of clouds and pink
holding half a pizza
and a serving of Tagliatelle with sauce
walking off our unpaid meal
cashing out
serving up euros to Sicilian
of Germanic origin
the subtle path of lowing shadows
loving the path of lovers
needing to cool down
it’s Frühling Spring
solitude
. . . quiet
black peppercorn
on a ribbon
of tagliatelle
I, on my path
sinuous striding
impelled by you
impaled by you
Lasagna, linguine, spaghetti, ravioli, macaroni too
Is there any pappardelle for me and for you?
Here is marinara sauce lavished on angel hair
Sure try to take a bite of my pasta if you dare.
Shrimp scampi, chicken, blackened salmon. Why not?
Bucatini, vermicelli and fettuccine hit the sweet spot
Chunky meat sauce with hamburger a plenty.
I would add more cheese, but there simply isn’t any.
That is not fettuccine you fake connoisseur,
It is obviously tagliatelle. Your pedigree unpure.
Campanelle noodles with her sweet ruffled edges
Rivals cavatappi which gives cheese rather soft ledges
Spiral shaped fusilli has groves and crevices galore.
Radiatori noodles? I love this the best out of my top four.
Elbow macaroni for the kids maybe. They think it’s fine.
But make a fancier dish if you don’t expect me to whine.
Butterfly like farfalle makes me smile and laugh.
Gemelli is too twisty; it deserves a lot of gibble and gaff.
Penne noodles are my least favorite. I do not like them at all.
I could only eat them six or seven days a week winter and fall.
Can't Jamaica little speed?
I asked the waitress.
It's Chili outside and I'm Hungary.
I told you I'd have tagliatelle.
Canton that to fill my belly.
I thought I might have Turkey,
seeing as it's Christmas.
The cook said he Canada that
until next week.
What a freak!
Wine glasses here, Fullum up.
I prefer my tea in a China cup.
Austin will be joining me.
Ohio Loughlin, a friend Oswell.
That makes a table Fortree.
Silly me, Scotlands too.
I forgot about you.
Forgive my Eire Scot.
The waitress Wales to the Cook
"Strait, yet another mate."
Please sendup a plate.
Pasta with tomato sauce and basil please!
Or, white pasta with olive oil will do,
Steaming hot, slippery, sprinkled with cheese,
How about tagliatelle smothered in ragu',
Cannelloni stuffed with ricotta and spinach,
Thick lasagne layered with ham.
Please say it's pasta, please say we can.
Ravioli with potato filling dripping in butter,
Tortiglioni, penne, spaghetti, fusilli, I silently mutter.
Please say it's pasta, the good old red, white and green,
Please heap our plates and order us to lick them clean,
Pasta, please, Pasta.
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