He’d learned from an early age.
From his forever-ancient father.
Hands across the dinner table.
Dad liked things done properly.
“We do not eat like savages.”
But there was that one scene
in “Lady And The Tramp”…
She’d never been taught. At home
they’d sometimes had limp hoops
on toast. TV trays and soaps.
Never gave it a thought ‘til now.
Blush lushing up by candlelight.
His eyes on her untrained fork.
Rejection slithery and inevitable.
His expert wrist twirls on his side
of the table. Twisting efficiently.
Cool demonstration of dexterity.
She wishes she’d ordered steak.
He wishes he’d learned something
else from his father. How to reach
hands across the dinner table.