A precisely filleted mignon is carried out of the kitchen,
green parsley particularly placed
around the entrée and
elegant sauces drizzled with utmost care
a desirable odor wafts across the hall craving the attention of patrons –
to the next table.
Your dish, however,
arrived while envious eyes followed the main course.
Lacking any hint of flavor or tender decoration
commonly attributed to the finest dining.
Mediocre presentation riles images of
robotic manufactured nutrients lined up for assembly to be delivered to the masses.
Yet especially for you.
A frozen platter carries a frosted meal
masking the points deducted by a health inspector.
The glacial taste you inhale removes
the burning effects the chef’s hands placed upon it.
The overall monotonous result has you wondering
“Who did I piss off this time?”
