the good china
sits in a box in the basement
awaiting fine
company. royalty perhaps,
not unlike
the ex in-laws.
gold leaf
porcelain plates.
tea cups and saucers.
even a gravy boat to match.
I think about it sometimes
when
spooning mashed potatoes
and meat
loaf, green beans
onto to a flimsy paper
plate.
the jello I have bowls
for, though
heaven forbid, not the good
china.
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