Poetry
The dining room was arranged in a octagon shaped room with each set of tables and chairs,
Staggered on 8 flights of stairs, meeting the centre.
People were arranged according to popularity and those that were not trending would always be placed on the most
Precarious spot where it was more optimized
For accidents leading to embarrassment.
There was one woman that chose me to sit with her
Even though her friends snickered as I was
Not a celebrity.
She said not to mind them,
And their maladaptive behaviours.
Passive aggression and
Superior gesturing and whispering
While texting.
Our server looked like my mother if my mother had a sister.
But with too much makeup
A cosmo-holic of the palette
Too much rouge
Purple added to the lashes,
Lipstick emanating from the shadow.
The rotating lights would create a
Rotating light effect,
A warning without an alarm.
The siren effect
To create a feeling of uneasiness.
My date is an old painter friend named Beth,
That would paint Deere John
A play on words and imagination into realism,
Paintings of tractor tires,
Or a green Oliver or a
Minneapolis moline no. 2.
Pop pay phones ringing off the wall,
But no one could see where the
Clattering of an old bell would be
Shattering the silences.
overthrowing
All the the uproarious laughter.
This place had a duelling effect.
A type of game of wits and what nots,
A menu,
Where you are forced To reason out scenarios
Quickly before they start removing chairs,
Eliminating of each guest and their
Counterpart from across the table.
The room had a brooding air,
A deep unhappiness of silent thoughts,
Where if it had subtitles
It would say
(Dark symphonic rise and fall of music)
The restaurant was titled
Deep in the depths.
It had aquarium type viewing windows,
Surrounding,
For the elected guests that would
Vote randomly when given questions
On each player
Based purely on feeling.
The last couple was a tarot reader and
A soothsayer
They didn’t see that coming.
The second grouping was a construction worker and a landscaper,
That stood upright on the ground.
The third pairing was a yoga instructor and
A juvenile lawyer.
We sat in gunslinger positions,
Eyebrow flashing one another,
Raising the eyebrows slightly for more than two seconds,
While the opponent
Would do authentic mirroring.
While building a rapport to connect to
The other opponent,
Would try mutual gazing or the The Duchenne smile.
Sometimes difficult to discern between
A fake and real smile as the situation
Becomes more puzzling with a head tilt
As the metaphors thicken.
The next two to go was a spring chicken,
A younger person and then their opponent,
A geriatric soldier that still had his full faculties.
Strong mental abilities while the youth was
Aloof.
The cutlery is now removed and table
Cloths replaced with sandpaper sheets,
Each with a different grip,
Course to fine
Garnet to ceramic.
Rule number 816 was relayed through the rooms
Intercom.
You must keep your hands to yourself and not touch the arms or table top.
Trouble tennis is this rule.
A gruelling match of military like poise,
And acuteness, that lasts 4 hours.
Until a player become fidgety,
Like a drill stance in the military
But stationary,
With a straight back upright and straight.
The grand finale has two tables
Myself and my opponent Beth
And a trucker and a ballet
Instructor,
They keep changing songs in a playlist
That have a song metric like flight of the bumblebee
Bach’s
Toccata and fugue in Dminor BWV 565
Or Antonio Bazzini’s - Dance of the goblins
I was hoping for Bizets Carmen
But they never got to that one as
My hand brushes the table
An a abrasive finale.
I am escorted out of the hall,
And left blindfolded,
In the forest
Listening
To frogs and crickets.
No dessert for me.