Some orid sell out with a stiff upper lip What a pair
A couple toyed with their cutlery
In bashful glances

On others other than each other
Through pastel exchange
Their curiosities met
The waiter navigating the itting vistas, addressed them In what order would do you care for?

Praise rst , reality second, explanation never
Indeed, and how do you propose that be cooked ?
Embroiled for at least half my life , and then you can freeze the left overs
And for you Madam
Nothing , another martini
Lose particles were introduced to table and immediately inhaled through an eager airwave
The conversation picked itself up.
Darling are you alright? You seem continually distracted by that gentleman’s punk-ed demeanour
He’s’ just more rock, less shell...anyway when can we get a new skirting board?
When the old one runs out
What about our blanc goods ? Do you not think they need refreshing ?
I thought they were sterile enough...
But we need to make this signi cant!
We have talked at this many times , the job and its whimsical settlements just cant take the demands of our domestic paradise Your job, along with your ‘whimsical settlements’ are as far hung as that hat-eating loner over there, but the consideration of your sentiment is blow-drying my thick hair thin
Sir, your linens — you appear to have streaked them, let me get you a towel
My newest suit! I should have rather dressed as an Ad Reinhardt
It’s not my fault you cant put food in your mouth, you should have asked them to debone it
Picked bones or not , this is now indigestible ...but please, let me further abuse my palette with some of those loose particles Ha, sure, you will no doubt turn beastly and regret it
Sir you cannot smoke in here
Oh my , apologies, I forgot it wasn’t the 1970’s
Are you done? The food has barely touched you ?
My appetite has been forced elsewhere , as I was saying ...
You’ve been studying the bill for quite some time
What a Stella remark — how lined of you to notice
You are unbearable ,when did you last see your therapist ?
Oh not for a weeks , Ive been banned
I suppose it was something to do with that gallerist... you and your brackish secretions
In all mother of pearls! Did I say how nice you were looking this evening?
No . You didn’t even notice my castanets ... or comment on my mantle
How dastardly insular I have become
After a short Godley and creme café
The pair nally left the table
The lure of the well exercised horizontal interrupted the vertical exchange that followed
In all appropriateness, this has only to do with oneself
As they collapsed at each others side
A dimmed lustre gently broke over off their still minds and settled for less
As every good story ends you can always get another tattoo to tell another one
Can we move and sit the shade? I’m burnt. 

Dominic Samsworth - Lounge Elopes
Galerie Jeanroch Dard, April 19 - June 04
www.jeanrochdard.com