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

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