a Lament

A Lament


I have bought an air-condition unit for the kitchen,
It hangs there high up on the wall making me feel
Prosperous, the women in the village have been in
Seeing it, since I used to be a chef and do bake my
Own bread, the men think I’m a queer, don’t mind
Their wives swapping recipes with me…

It’s strange, is it not? Forever I was a chef in hotels
And posh restaurant, not well paid and cooks where
Not seen, the person sweating smelling of booze and
Being unappreciated; alas, now they are superstars
Their love life is reported in magazines. Yet, when
My women go they leave a scent of mimosa behind.