stuffed duck

you ask the snobby
waiter for
a bottle of ketchup
to dip your duck
in. the duck is stuffed
with plums and snails
and surpisingly not
too bad, but it
needs a little ketchup
to make it just right.
the waiter sends the manager
over, who runs across
the room to slap
you across the face
with his white glove.
you are in france
and you do not know
their customs. he tells
you to leave, to go now
you stupid American.
he points towards
the door making the crowd
of diners stand up
and clap with approval.
you put your baseball
cap on and say, i'm
leaving frenchie,
no problem, but wrap
up that duck to go. he
says non, non,
and sets the plate
on the floor where
a dog walks up
to eat what's left.
now go, he says,
smoothing out his
greasy black mustache.
go back to your ketchup
country and never
come back.