Hungry

I met you at about noon;
You shuffled an awkward mass
Through a dull office door
And your eyes grinned at me
Through a cloud of auburn curls
Darting about your face
Like a swarm of unruly bees
That coated every word you spoke
In a rich, dark honey.

You immediately asked me to lunch;
Pulled the chair out for me
At a simply laid yet expansive table
Set with so many places
That I could not count them.
And though before long that table
Thronged with such a diversity of diners
As to make the most lefty liberal swoon;
Still I felt that it was really only
You and I that sat together in the crowd.
For it was you that held us together,
Each connected by a thread.
You, an ambivalent spider
At the centre of the social web.
The operator at the exchange.

Without delay the dishes arrived,
A sumptuous array of culinary treats
That overwhelmed the senses
And inspired and enthralled and enticed.
With each course, a new level
Of possibility was attained,
An un-trodden floor of potential
As the tastes and textures
Unlocked in me a sequence
Of rungs upon a ladder
That built my appetite
For new experiential heights.

We laughed like friends
Who would never again be apart
And made plans for the afternoon
As the shining surface of your enthusiasm
Only occasionally betrayed hidden depths
That I might yet know.

And still the band played on.

Until at about 3pm
The lights were dimmed
As the plates were cleared
And I realised we all
Had a bill to pay.

But by the time I had achieved
The attention of the waiter
And begun to divide the debt
Between those diners nearest to me

You had paid.

And left.

Leaving us sat
At a cold dark table.
Immeasurably richer
But empty
And still insatiably hungry for you.