we order dinner,
well, at least i do.
she gets a salad, she's
on a diet.
her salad arrives and she
begins to pick
out the croutons,
setting them aside.
cranberries too.
the devil's work in fruit.
then my steak and potato
is set down
before me,
my bread,
my side order of broccolini.
the savory steam
rises into my face.
slowly her hand
creeps across the table
with a cold fork
and she
begins to eat what i have,
asking me
for one more slice of meat,
and wanting
more butter
for the bread.
finally finished, the plates
empty,
she asks me,
you're getting dessert too,
aren't you?
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