Disentangled Pasta

It would help if they were straight lines
but cursed with eternal wiry sticky strands
that tangled and confused
there seemed little choice
but to crop back the verbosity
to eradicate the ferocity
of the charade but when it came down to it
that was the finest pasta he had tasted
since his mumma’s legendary spaghetti bolognaise
rocked the boat of his childhood or her lasagna
which just seemed to hit the very roof

the delights of culinary extremes
an endless sauce or roulette roulade
a cosmic mayonnaise or a cheese plate salad
or chips with a secret sauce dip
all these things in one sandwich

the next day and her culinary skill
was how he measured the cut of the salad
or the requisite crispness of a chip
or the send back ability of the entire gamut

take back the entire course or you can piss into a can on the back of a horse
he did not care you can kiss toads and newts in the ditches
on the road to pathos instead of riches
he taunted and poked at the waiter

The odd stake-in-the-heart moment or a cheshire cat romance
it pained her to tick off the boxes
to then be forced to reject him
out of statistical necessity
adding her reason to the oblique choice “of course”.