Eating Alone

 

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I've eaten many meals alone, the table set for one.
No need to heed the dinner bell; I never have to run.
The pale moon of my dinner plate reflects my hungry face;
utensils frozen to my touch as if from outer space.
I read a book or watch TV while chewing on some greens,
then guzzle milk without restraint and end with jelly beans.
Or bite into a hamburger with juices running down
and turning every shirt I own a lovely shade of brown.
It all tastes pretty much the same, home-cooked or ordered in;
I doubt that I would notice if my bread were made of tin.
Why not come and dine with me, for better or for ill?
I'd sure enjoy the company, and might discount your bill.
 

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