all the way to Baltimore for this

by the time

i got to Baltimore, 

an hour late, lost

going

over the bridge

as i took the wrong

exit into

the wrong part of town,

the slab

of salmon she cooked

for me

was now a dry curled

piece of bark.

the salad limp,

the small potatoes even

smaller now.

i cut the fish with a knife,

and doused it with 

ketchup

trying to bring it back

to life.

delightful i told her,

chewing

with a smile.

you shouldn't have.

but i could see in her eyes,

that i would

not be spending the night.