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Eighty Ninth Birthday
Starched napkins, candles, paper flowers
in swan-necked vials, imitation crystal,
maroon carpet, golden brocade curtains,
last year’s lady not here yet,
not well perhaps
or overlooked from some invitation
Simulated parchment menu
embossed leather covers lead the way
to Kaishu script temptations inside;
out of season delicacies, reminiscent
of a far eastern summer or bought
in Chinatown probably
Gum feels like hell
one of my molars cracked
down to the root so it had to be
extracted, meaning wrenched out
with savage pliers, the gap feels
raw, goes down forever
last year’s lady not here yet
We’re celebrating someone’s birthday
hope it’s not mine, have a little wine
it will ease the pain, thank you
I know your face from somewhere
but I can’t quite place you, a while ago
at one of these dinners I think it was
The menu’s changed since then
(probably the owners as well)
food’s exaggerated, dressed up
in foreign looking disguises, it’s strange
I put my tongue there and its gone,
last year’s lady still hasn’t arrived
Excuse me do you perhaps have a calendar
what year is this? Should I have some
bridge work done or just leave it and get
used to its not being there any longer?
It’s a nice wine, think I’ll have a little more
where’s last year’s lady? Oh dear,
I think she’s not coming after all.
What’s for dessert?
a glass of cognac would be good
© Johnmichael Simon
2007
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