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The first seated takes the chance he’ll be
stood up. She’s getting on with the hope she may
get off. One and one make one
in this riddle. Or, more closely, comedy routine:
first, impressions; second, observations.
Impolite to have thirds. Bachelors and bachelorettes
beware: more than tonight they can mess up your order.
Who would go for the lobster expects the claws.
No pets allowed, keep your shirt on, places this strict—
like loony bins—require a jacket, sir. Mark sudden pauses,
gaps in the flap, commas where a sutra might be...
and what shall we make of it, love, perhaps?
What elevator is this anyway, that even the prospect
of going down has made you high?
What’re you on?
Source: Poetry (July/August 2009)