sonnet for lunch

when we first met for you, i was wrapped

in cellophane & it was in the bag.

i fed within your court & did you

know then nothing lasts forever?

no corners cut as a mother's love

                             ( at longlastlost to caffetoriums

everywhere &                      
                         yr old home wrecker,

lady lunch,                                 
                                 serves the foul & the fare.

 & what the crust                              

                                  & how much mustard

                                                                                            must be cut befitting mayo?

hard to will  (our daily swill)  -     
                                   banal as it is in heaven

                       & what to ever sup in this                                           
                                               our incessant doldrum-hour?

oh lunch!                                              
                            when will we discover what we've lost?

                             i need to take you out before yr tossed.