My Last Supper By Leonardo Da Vinci - Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka
Surrounded by my twelve best friends I asked
my wife to prepare a lobster and crab dinner.
When she was done she sat next to my right.
Anyway that's how Da positioned her. And yes
it's her alright. No question about it. During the
dinner I asked my buddies not to throw the
left over food from their plates at each other.
A shitty habit we picked up when attending
outdoor lunches and dinners at sheiks tables
in Casablanca where I was a prima don student
of the Beaux Arts. Blame such vile actions on
the architects' club of which I was a member.
The French students had a peculiar debauched
tradition to throw, at the end of the meal, food
leftovers. It was a greasy war of ambush and
skirmishes and they laughed their heads off
while ducking half-eaten lamb chops in tagine
sauces and green olives. The most fun they had
was when they rained the couscous using their
hankies for slings. It offended the native servers
to no end. But who cared about their feelings
in that colonial era. They were, if not exactly
slaves then drudges but still! I was disturbed by
the hardly contained offended expressions of
disgust while they glared at the so-called
civilized behave in such uncivilized fashion.
And that was way before ISIS. I bet today
that modern band of primitives would slit their
throats and make of them moo shu pork.
Thank G-d Leonardo had enough common
sense not to show that part when he painted us
around the table with me surreptitiously
feeding the dogs under the table while at the
same time playing footsies with my wife.
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