my classy friend

I stood in the kitchen shoveling 
food - the last of the breakfast, 
plate to maw
by forkful shove. 

I'd risen abstractedly to clear 
my plate when I saw 
I had not cleared my plate
- how rude! It was hammed 
and tomatoed eggs, and someone 
had made quite a scramble of them. 
To dishonor the pigs and hens 
and plants, all such labors of love 
was beyond my ken. So I raised it 
to mouth - the obvious choice! 

And shoveled delicious voraciously 
in. 

And thought in a flash 
of my classy friend. 

Look. I don't think she would 
"disapprove" as such. She would 
probably laugh like bells and blush 
to see my pure manner and natural grace 

engaged in such ways 
of feeding my face, but 

it probably would confirm something. And 
if she'd been there, I feel I know for sure 
- I probably might have had presence of mind 
in greater, specific amount 

to deplore.

But 
maybe quite not.
Maybe not rather. 
It's possible that wouldn't cross my mind,
or it's possible
I would transgress such line, since 

her standards are hers, not mine, I find.
And I think this here attitude, cool and aloof 
from unnatural affect and held value 

is something she actually prizes, a bit! 
We're examples to each, in what's
just 
fit.