Passion: A Bite Or Two..... [an Unexpected Dining Experience; Beware Of Strangers; Humor/Humour; Long, But Delicious] Poem by Bri Edwards

As I sat at a restaurant’s table to dine ALONE,
a curious figure approached me, looking a bit like “skin and bone”.
She was not old; she was not young. She asked “Sir, may I join you? ”
In my long life I’d experienced much, but this, to me, was something NEW!

As I favor females (more to the lean side than to the other) ....
I said “Yes you may, Dear”, and I thought about my mother.
Mom had taught me to share with those who seem in need.
I thought the least I could do was provide this skinny gal with feed.

I called the waiter and asked for a second menu and place setting.
His face, oddly-enough, at my request, seemed to be fretting.
My guest then spoke up again saying “Oh sir, I’ve had enough to eat today.”
The waiter did not seem surprised. He, but NOT HIS FRETTING, went away.

I ordered a half bottle of white wine for myself, and water for the gal.
I ordered a large house salad (no dressing) and steak and lobster tail.
I knew I’d want dessert for sure and hate to order it later,
so I ordered it to be served [as soon as my entrée was done] by the waiter.
Before he left with my order, a thought came to my mind; I....
ordered a bowl of soup. I thought the gal might like it, and Mom would think me kind.

While we waited I looked about the room. A few tables looked at us.
Some diners seemed to snicker. Some actually chuckled. What was the fuss?

Came the waiter, with the wine, but also with a second glass, and a set of silverware.
I almost reminded him she was not hungry, but I let him leave them there.
The wine was exceptionally good that night. I poured myself a second glass.
It was then I noticed the sparkle in the eyes of my table mate, the lass.
I said “Are you sure you don’t care to have a bit? It’s very good.”
She said “Perhaps half a glass.” I saw the waiter eying us from the corner.....where he stood.

I poured her half a glass, no more; as yet she hadn’t touched her water.
She told me she was divorced, and she had two grown sons and a daughter.
While she spoke, she sipped her wine, not too quickly, but soon it was all gone.
She had perfect teeth, and a winning smile, to which I soon was drawn.

The salad (no dressing) came soon enough. The greens were oh so tender.
When I’d finished half, I said “Would you like to try some? ”, trying, from her ‘diet’, to bend her.
She said “Well, it certainly does look good. I’ll have a bite or two.”
The waiter suddenly appeared with a small salad plate. It was.......as though he KNEW.

I told her I was in town on business, flying out from JFK in the morning.
She said “Watch yourself in this big town.” It was said as though in warning.
I assured her I was a “big boy” and could well take care of myself,
to which her smile broadened, and her eyes twinkled like the eyes of an elf.

The entrée arrived after we’d had more pleasant conversation,
and, to my eyes, the entrée (as well as my guest) was a fine gourmet creation.
She, too, seemed to approve of it as its aroma wafted towards her nose.
It was then I felt, against my calf, the rubbing of her five left toes.

I dared not say a word about what was happening beneath our table.
Instead I tried to concentrate on my meal..... as best that I was able.

The steak was done to perfection, medium-rare, ....as I did order.
[Meanwhile, my private part was still at ease, though certainly at the “border”.]
The lobster tail (with drawn butter) was oh so good. The potato was as well.
I said “Dear, won’t you try just a bit of the entrée? I can tell you enjoy the smell.”
The waiter, once again, was ready with a plate. She smiled and said “If I must.”
She shared steak, lobster, and potato, while I began to lust.

By the time dessert arrived, Baked Alaska, I decided I needed brandy.
She asked if I would order her one too. By now you could call me ‘randy’.
With our drinks the waiter brought a second serving of the yummy dessert.
To my wondering expression the waiter responded “Compliments of the gentleman in the purple shirt.”

She and I sipped our brandies. She ate her dessert AND some of mine.
I was intoxicated by my dinner guest, the brandy, AND the wine.
By now her toes had found their goal. My napkin now was tented.
AND, that night in ‘our’ hotel room, I didn’t need the ‘naughty’ movie I’d rented.

(January 19,2014; revised March 15)