Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Each and every of the
Seven billion
Friendly faces

Each hoping
Our melting pot
Luck hasn’t run out

Staring at the huddled clusters
Of chattering teeth
And those are the regulars!

I can tell you
Someone’s
Bringing a fusion dish

Sub-Tropic Hong Kong lasagna
Scottish tacos
Egyptian jambalaya with a piquant chutney sushi

Hydroponic tomatillos from
Moonlight-powered solar panels
Guided by conglomerate satellite

They’re all bringing
Their own seat, and
Finger food is preferred

The maître d’ sweats
Beneath his microfiber
Cumberbun the swelling

Of belly and stress
Tighten and release
As the tides do, ceaselessly

Asking of
The appetizers
And desserts

And if  they’re making
Too much
Of everything.

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