Metaphysics

The interminable years
where it seems I search a universe
attempting to raise that special one
with quince-apple cheek and body
that argues a case for lost virginity

who engages me with a look
that makes her for that moment mine
her decolletage unfolding with a laminated menu
as she guides me through the fare
then fixes me with an all-consuming interest in my tale

told against a ballad made eternal by the king
and with trapeze-timing claps the table
laughing with me a laugh
that recasts the molecular make-up of the air
the tunic around our dance
      beyond which
      even the line cook soured on life
                                    keeps time.