of the whitefish mountain of
diner sandwich,
as he looked on
with a sultan's glower
over her innocence,
and a bit of lettuce in her teeth.
The napkin became her fan,
as her eyes lowered.
Fast forward 35 years...
Alone after the sultry glow
of his innocent eyes,
she devoured her whitefish sub,
licking fingers,
catching fragments in her palm
and then popping them
into her mouth.
Only when she felt
the dripping juice
of milky nectar,
did she wipe her mouth clean...
a coquette's fan was not essential.
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