golden corral

You have to get much more than you really want
when you dip the big spoon at the golden corral,
And give a big downward wandlike wave, hoping
just what you want falls off. This works

great with the mashed potatoes, not
so well with the stuffing. The whole thing
came off on your plate. Oh well
.
You have not made
a study of consistency.
At least there's the gravy,
and the human beings here
parade, a courteous more or less boister

of grown adults waiting their turn, weighing
their plates while kids of all ages
wait their turns more impatiently,
and young adults, too old now to know better
take their turns as they come, stepped
around and between and ahead of others,
careful of the little old people, stoic
or timid, who've been here before

and so have learned
that to be unperturbed
best suits their dignity,
if you can't tell whose kids

are whose.

The whole line forms, and scatters
and reforms accordingly, according
to collective wishes and wants,
so overly satisfied,
so underly fulfilled,
centered seemingly on the meat items
and desserts, leaving scant attention
to the first part, the salad bar
. Their faces are intent

with hope, remembering how good
these things can taste
elsewhere, wanting that memory.
Their faces straining
with the power of love
,
by huey lewis