The only ones who knew
were either dead or Disraeli
—Alan at dinner
I held this observation through dinner
like a hobo filching bread from a soup kitchen.
I chortled to myself as the brioche disappeared
through the rest of the conversation
followed by metropolitan discussions of
education, theatre, politics and
famous friends and
steamed rice, string beans and
tender breast of chicken in a delicious perfect sauce
that rambled through the rice and over the beans
like tour guides thinking of the Piazza Americana
from beneath the blazing florets of Notre Dame
I complimented our host before dessert
and being the first person I’d ever heard
use Disraeli as an adjective
We devoured his home made pumpkin pie
in studiously devout silence
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