At the Restaurant


The reason I am here
is that I’m a gourmet
and am not satisfied
with a simple buffet.

The last time I spoke
to the chef, I told him
to cook me pheasant.
And it wasn’t on a whim.
Last year when I ate it
it tasted very pleasant.
The desire for it now
seemed to me apparent.

The wine I drank with it
was a supple Pinot Noir,
a red delectable nectar
as smooth as the Loire.

Who tickled the ivories
as we sampled the food?
The “Moonlight Sonata”
sounded ever so good.

© Luigi Pagano 2019

© ionicus 2020
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A sumptuous poem indeed! ‘as smooth as the Loire’ is not a desperate attempt to rhyme with Noir… it flows quite naturally. I like it very much.


Yes, this is class Luigi. I can imagine you a gourmet, a cordon-bleu chef at home, much to the family’s delight. Yes, as Supratik hints at, stretching the rhyme-matching a bit, but succeeding, except for the end where ‘supplied the right mood’ or similar would less dialectically challenging! Goooo’d is God in Swedish (Gud, long vowel), so it might be me! Your ‘slice-of-life’ poetry always good to read.
Regards, Trevor

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