Cheese Salad

 

The Cheese Salad

seems to speak to me.

 

‘Cheese Salad’

 

The letters look desolate

and unhealthy,

Alone on the menu

which glows with

Bad light.

 

I wonder when was the last time

Someone ordered the

Cheese Salad.

 

The menu itself

looks old,

Used,

 

Hanging above the counter,

A banner that hasn’t been taken down

even though the party was years ago.

 

Everything could just be

bony remains.

 

 The Cheese Salad,

an attempt at health

in this dank meat house.

 

I don’t get it,

The Cheese Salad.

Who would?

From a place like this?

 

What I get is a mess of

Brown fiborous meat,

Stringy salad coated

In thin mayonaisse,

Like bird shit

In hair,

and

Shrivelled,

Destitute

Yellow chillis.

 

Still, I look at the word

‘Cheese Salad’ as I leave.

After tonight,

After saying goodbye,

Knowing the horrible truth,

After all this,

I look at the words on the menu,

Alone, unloved.