written by: Barbara Harris Leonhard
When you order a bourbon on ice,
he asks, “Would you like a glacier with that?”
No surprise about size. The 16-inch dinner plate
heaves a 20-ounce T-bone
and a basin of fries on the side.
You’ve already foraged
at the All-You-Can-Eat Salad Bar –
so long it is marked with trail signs.
“This way to the tater salad”. You can lodge
At Ranch Dressing. Rest at Mayo Clinic.
You tell the kids, “Eat it all,
or you don’t eat!” They slosh it down
with refills of Mountain Dew
with extra glacier. For dessert, gluts of apple pie
under mounds of rocky road.
Meanwhile that glacial ice is melting
onto the table, the floor, and out the door,
sweeping you up with gas guzzlers, trash trucks,
and hog haulers. You barely have time
“Can I get that to go?”
Barbara Harris Leonhard
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