No faddist I, for hats or shoes
I care not for jazz or blues
I’m not the least interested by art
But let me state right from the start
I love food.
Oh, cannelloni, fettuccine, vine red and white
Scampi, snails, lobster tails, what a lively sight
At the very thought of these,
My entrails give a little squeeze
My willing salivary glands
Begin to work like tiny hands
Just think of it--Peking duck with orange and cherries
The thinnest crêpes with cream and berries
Velvety Spanish flan--Olé! Fruit to take one’s breath away
Scallops sautéed from the bay
I love food.
Do I care what Poe has writ?
Not a bit.
For me kabobs, juicy from the spit
Pilaf, saffron-colored rice
Breaded milk-fed baby veal
Cloud-light dumplings for a meal
A soft white wine to wash the palate
Perhaps a simple summer salad
Oh for liqueur over chocolate mousse
To make me feel all sweet and loose
But enough of dreams--
Into my jeans and back to beans.
