Three hours on the folding table

Three hours on the folding table

and nobody took a bite.

One man lifted the foil corner,

said oh, interesting. Set it right

back down. Moved to the chips.

I watched him from across the room.

I held a cup near the drinks all night

and told myself it wasn't gloom,

wasn't anything, just a dish

I made. Drove home with it buckled

in the passenger seat, the heat

too high, the foil corners crinkled

back into place. Tight.

It's still on the counter.

I still have my coat on.

The foil's a little creased.