So
So, what's it gonna' be...
I waited patiently, stubby pencil in hand.
'...chicken or fish? '
She was planning a dinner party, the magnificent woman-
'Um...um...why not both? Oh, and we need some candles...put those down.'
'ok...both, ' I wrote, 'chicken and fish. Who are these people you're inviting?
'Just a bunch of diplomats. Oh, and flowers, but I'll get those.'
'Diplomats? What kind? ' I inquired, idly.
'I don't know, yet. Whatever's not on sale. But there's only one kind of diplomat. You'd best be going. They'll be here in six hours.'
I rose to go.
'And the salad? ' I remembered.
'What about it? , she asked, tying on an apron.
'What kind? '
'Mista.'
'Yes, sir, ' I saluted, and left.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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