JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

We’re supping with the know-alls

observing how solidly they sit

dispensing dinner table opinions

epicurean advice culled from

a lifetime study of human frailty,

from half a century

of weekend newspapers

 

All fall quiet  as they napkin

their lips, make their declarations

on the state of the world and its woes

dropping names and mispronunciations,

medical, political, the vagaries

of mankind, like grains of rice

from their well fed double chins

 

It’s good to get updated on

the latest gossip now and again

but on the way home we agree

that we prefer light music and laughter

with our chicken cacciatore