(for Mark Strand)
Salsa drips down my chin.
There is no gluttony like mine.
I have been eating Mexican.
The waiter does not believe what he sees.
His eyes are happy,
and he walks with one hand tucked in his vest.
The margaritas are finished.
The room is warm.
My date is walking from the bathroom now.
His mouth smiles,
His brown eyes blaze like jalapenos.
The friendly waiter begins to clear the plates and speaks.
He wants a generous tip.
When I get to my feet and hand him money,
he nods.
I am a new woman.
I say, “Gracias!” and I laugh.
I walk blissfully into the cool night.