26 April 2015 1054
The Sun sank like an over-ripe pumpkin
Beneath the serenely waveless azure sea,
But without the splash.
He focused on the illusion
And embraced the glittering flecks
Glancing off of the waves.
He had never enjoyed such an ordinary sunset
So much in his life.
He had arrived.
The butternut squash ravioli
Was so dry he almost choked
As he screwed up his placid grey eyes
And craned his neck to survey the exquisite scenery.
That was what he was paying a premium to enjoy….
He cared not a whit for the truffles
The maitre d’ hotel carefully shaved
And scattered onto his dish
Like fresh black pepper or Sea Salt
From the Dead Sea– spread like a scroll.
He was not vegetarian.
Or even vegan.
He swore he was by nature
But as he almost choked on his meal…
He relished his resplendent…
And being seen…
Was paramount in his mind….
He wanted to be somebody….
Be SEEN as being somebody….
He had carrot juice
He could use to wash it all down.