Come dine with me and be my meal,
All the sensations it appeals,
Like travels to lands, nations,
Scenes, sites, any location.
And we shall sit upon our thrones,
Studying the food we are prone,
To gorge on and become fat off,
Stomach pains and incessant coughs.
And I will offer a couch to lie,
Rest those muscles, many goodbyes,
When sleep falls over over weary mouths,
Shapes of dreams journey forever south.
Awake I watch your spasms,
Tuck every part down the chasm,
Until consumption of fleshes,
Has been absolved into the mesh.
If the feeling comes to us so,
I can show the tools that land blows,
Candelabras and candlesticks,
Tongue scraper, a unique toothpick.
The connoisseur shall pierce and cut,
For the indulgence of our guts,
If these acts may turn to appeals,
Then dine with me and be my meal.
David A. Church