In this pleasant, dimly lit ambiance;
I ordered a dish in my ignorance.
After friendly words it landed...
atop cast-iron atop porcelain she handed:
The Mac
My eyes tasted a yellow-rustic glaze, an orange speckled beige. I torqued the concoction with my fork.. viscous warm, not dripping lava-hot. Finally my hunger compelled what saliva sought:
I bit the bread baked,
chewed the crumb caked.
Dreams of milking with love: farmers sang cows to bliss and serenaded sheep that brought me this.
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