is a resurrection

                                             of culinary delectables.

               We need

                                                            wagon wheel coffee tables and wood paneled dens.

                              What we need is three-martini lunch hours

                                                            & checkered tablecloths speckled in wax

tipsy afternoons where no one goes home after 6 o’clock.

                                                                           I mean, we need butter molds.

Pineapple shaped butter molds

                              that leave our fingers slick,

                                                            shiny as turtle wax.

               Our homes need nothing-special

                                                            chandeliers

                              and beneath them champagne towers brimming with

                                                                                          the cheap stuff.

Throw

                                             out the boxed wine, the solo cups. Grab

                                                                           your girl by her waist and slow dance

                              as the table floods.

Imagine fruit hats laced with bananas for breakfast

                                                                           the scent of lemons in her hair.

                                                                                                                                       Listen,

               it’s time to bring out the punch bowl and toss out the coke cans.

                              Order a malted & ask

                                             for two straws.