Let’s celebrate the solitary meal:
the serendipitous trawl through the fridge;
the hopeful foray into the deep freeze,
the obliging egg and — on a good day —

the last hurrah of a cheesecake
or a cold Jersey potato, pleading
for release from its stiffening
cocoon of mayonnaise.

No waiting for a table here;
all you need is your fork,
your plate, your glass,
and your scallop-shell of quiet.