Food Critic
Retorts made at the lion
For eating too many meats.
The Sahara dry with bone
And damp with blood
uncondoned critiques
Oh please
Dishes un-unique in flavor
Deserve scorn,
Torn apart by my teeth
And I’m feared
So I’ll admit it,
I’m a connoisseur of sorts.
I’ve tried every dish
If you wished me to list all we’d be here for hours.
Sour and sweet,
Savory, and mild
Wild and ravenous am I for culture in this McDouble bubble of America,
So I’ll admit it,
I’m a connoisseur of sorts.
Then I found it.
This dish of West-Indian spice
Precisely in the middle of the inner city,
Pretty was it presented on the plate
Sliced to perfection,
And I had to have it.
So, I’ll admit,
I’m a connoisseur-of sorts.
I sat,
Napkin in lap and wine prepping an unprepared palette,
And then you were placed in front of me,
And my mouth over-flowed
With salvation,
And I bit into you,
And I never looked back,
So yes,
I’m a connoisseur of sorts.