I’m not laughing that I chose to eat lunch one-
handed, if I didn’t the moment would vanish in
an instant too brief to be my desired reality; th’
savour of this pleases as much as expressions
typed by a free hand resound in the few words
needed to epitomise ideas of indulgence - and
th’ glass of Shiraz suggests I can rest my case
as a relevant sub-judice indice, but only to me
So here I stand, the Turkish roll involved didn’t
gainsay although, perchance, relished being in
scenes for a role of candidness and harmony -
with its dreamlike gustatory-embellished, one-
handed flair for independently stating th’ case
it becomes the raison d’être for food today
© 18 October 2017, I. D. Carswell
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