This guy started

a food romance throwing lard 

at imaginary cowards…

saying

“I bet men are afraid of you”

and tossed this question  on my plate

then turned around and muttered 

” but I’m not… pass the butter”

 Parmesan and confusion on my napkin …

what is he talking about?

what  wimpy guys ?

behind that potted plant I see?

is someone quivering 

next to my knees?

espionage under a table?

so saying soup is ladled 

a thoughtful spoon drops on my plate

and a wondering 

what is wrong with 

me

his  smug filled eyes

pour ordinary questions 

and some ice

uncertainty going once

whispers going twice

you’ve got to stand up to a bully

echoes 

 around the rim of a glass

 around me

through me

and back to him…

I’m not afraid of you 

either