Tuesday, May 17, 2022

Sorry About The Meatloaf

 

The leftover meatloaf was bland.


I ate the whole portion I was given

but did not ask for seconds,

and tried to make my adding salt 

as clandestine an effort as possible.


I never complained, never said a word,

because the meatloaf,

which is usually very tasty

and one of my favorites,


would most likely have been 

up to its usual excellence

had I remembered to call

and say I would be late

when she cooked it 

yesterday.


So instead

when I finally remembered and called

to announce my tardiness that had

become obvious to her hours earlier,


I could tell by the tone of her voice

that my dinner was now 

being basted with large portions

of Chef’s Contempt.


I guess it makes sense how 

some meals taste better the next day

but most won’t when they are left to marinate

in a vat of Selfish Bastard

overnight.



Sorry about the meatloaf.



Ken Owen   May 2002

Van Niddy Press

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