Titles are like hors d’oeuvres.
They’re supposed to perk up the appetite,
get the glands prepped so they’re
ready to digest the main course,
the substance of the meal.
But if you know a little French,
hours d’oeuvre literally means
“outside of the work.”
And if you’re anything like me,
if it’s a good one, you eat far more than you should,
and you’re left with a diminished appetite
rather than a heightened one.
I lose steam a few bites in, and
dinner is downgraded to doggy bag status.

I’d rather save it for later.

A nice spot of crème brulee after
the meat and potatoes have had time to digest,
after the blank page that signifies The End.
Only three or four spoons full.
Just enough to close your eyes,
lean you back in the chair
and evoke a sigh.

Or best yet, leave it until the dishes

are cleared away, if it’s a good one.
 

“The After Dinner Mint”