Food Critic

Retorts made at the lion

For eating too many meats.

The Sahara dry with bone

And damp with blood

uncondoned critiques

Oh please

Dishes un-unique in flavor

Deserve scorn,

Torn apart by my teeth

And I’m feared

So I’ll admit it,

I’m a connoisseur of sorts.

I’ve tried every dish

If you wished me to list all we’d be here for hours.

Sour and sweet,

Savory, and mild

Wild and ravenous am I for culture in this McDouble bubble of America,

So I’ll admit it,

I’m a connoisseur of sorts.

Then I found it.

This dish of West-Indian spice

Precisely in the middle of the inner city,

Pretty was it presented on the plate

Sliced to perfection,

And I had to have it.

So, I’ll admit,

I’m a connoisseur-of sorts.

I sat,

Napkin in lap and wine prepping an unprepared palette,

And then you were placed in front of me,

And my mouth over-flowed

With salvation,

And I bit into you,

And I never looked back,

So yes,

I’m a connoisseur of sorts.