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Let’s celebrate the solitary meal:

the serendipitous trawl through the fridge;

the hopeful foray into the deep freeze,

the obliging egg and — on a good day —

the last hurrah of a cheesecake

or a cold Jersey potato, pleading

for release from its stiffening

cocoon of mayonnaise.

No waiting for a table here;

all you need is your fork,

your plate, your glass,

and your scallop-shell of quiet.