Gourmand Tuesday

This is for everybody,

bothered by the noise, the crunching,

the chewing, the back beats

of an out of control jukebox.

This is for everyone, the missed

opportunities and the taken

opportunities that maybe didn’t

work out because you misheard.

This is for everybody, everybody’s

everything. The drums of The Clash,

the silverware dump by the busser,

timed just right to miss the punch line.

The punch line of that long story your

friend was telling over dinner and you have to lean

over everyone who heard and shout above

their laughter, “What?” As you cheeks redden.

This is for everybody, that missed the

boat, missed the moment, missed the

chance, missed it. That “it”. The all

important, “IT”.

Everybody, you didn’t miss this.

Here it is for you. Here’s what it

reads, here’s what it meant,

and now you know.

Everybody’s everyone.

Is there.

You just didn’t know it,

because of the noises.

Or it was Fat Tuesday, in New Orleans,

and you’ve been drinking all day,

you’re half naked in the street wearing

a jester’s hat, drowning in colored beads. 

Maybe that.