If ever one meats with any metaphorical meaning in my mind, one will notice its medium-rarity.
Maybe even ponder inside its pans (or puns) playing poultry to its poetry.
Better yet, one would willingly fish for feelings and try to fry (or fly) playing poultry to its potency.
Mealtime; one will move on from the meeting thereafter, with the sort of sensation in one's stomach that's abnormally associated with winged insects.
By then, it would have been a ravishing rendezvous, remebered without rue; tummies would have been filled too.
A moment made mainly with a mixture of magic as well as a dab of madness - an exhibition of eloquent intent, like eating expensively at an elegant event.
Does one get it?
Coz if one doesn't; I DEE GEE A Sugar Honey Ice Tea.