I said what I meant.
My words sank into the cheese fondu.
I suggested you get a chip
a triangular chip
and dig my words out
to taste them through semi-liquid dairy fats.
No. That word was inlet.
Not in debt.
You guessed an island could be
without money.
But not without rocks
and a sunset over the ocean’s horizon line.
That was why we were here: the sunset.
Not the food or the wine.
Oh. For you it was the claret
and the youth that captured your eye
who stood in the gazebo
espousing climate dooms.
I thought that was better than a churchgoer
who only practiced the missionary position.
Like the one who fooled you into marriage
before confiding sexual preferences.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 