I’ve got to find the swirled butter on the plate.
Regard this spiraled stack of paper napkins. This miniscule, considered bit of hospitality intrigues me.
On weekends my ambulations deliver me to London.
The other day as I got off the elevator, I discovered that Italy was getting reconstructed on the seventh floor.
I tell these grape stompers, “You know, my great-grandma actually made wine that way.” They tell me, “A lot of people have been telling us that tonight!”
Of all the Italy I see here, I most enjoy the giant see-through paintings.
In the bathroom I run into a friend of mine and her business partner. They run a florist company called “Flower and Bee.” They are arranging wedding bouquets. The whole sink area smells like a realm of olfactory love and harp music. It must be all the jasmine.
I ask them who is getting married.
It turns out I actually know the couple. Sure enough, when I check out the lobby bar I recognize half the wedding party. One of the groomsmen folds a paper napkin into his empty breast pocket. And as long as it is dry, you won’t notice that his handkerchief is not silk.
I type a quick congratulatory poem for the couple.
The next day I get together with my friend Adam for a brainstorm session. He tells me “Thanks for allowing me push this meeting back a few days. I was really busy, I had to officiate a wedding yesterday.”
And yes, it turns out to be the same wedding.
Excuse me Adam, I have to use the bathroom.