Thursday, 29 April 2010

I'm drunk and full of dinner, nom

Broil me scallops, toast me
brioche and tamper it down my throat
in bed. You offered me candy,
a striped cane to lick upon.

I concurred.

We feasted, knew the meaning of
blanch and shock, we gorged like
emperors at the last-chance saloon.

The hog roast tipped his hat at the
assembled gentry and the pea and
parmesan promised us immortality
if we could make it
to the dessert. We could.

It was glorious. We binged
until our bellies ached, until
we were taut and unbuttoned.

It was glorious. We thrashed like
epileptics at the apple-bob and
we made sure the call for doggy bags
went unheard.

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