I

~

The lobsters languish

in enterprising restaurant tank

as patrons form column,

centurion-shuffle - - - forward –

buffet devourers focussed

on approaching objective –

the register and release (k-ching)

into feast.

One well-meaning grandpa,

swims his diapered captive past

window into lobster life.

He points leerily to monstrosity,

jiggle-jollies tot who promptly farts.

With corridor light at back,

the hovering cut-off-at-hips man

and child

would appear as sinister

as a Black hawk blading into view.

~

II

~

Assembly line

has parked me up against

'Can I tempt you with these delicacies?'

My turn

to predatory-stare.

Not that I have any intention

of partaking in pan-fried

Just-Died.