Epicure and Couture? Not Sure.

Epicure and Couture? Not Sure.

Let’s don our duds and do the town.
We’ll hit the house and bring it down.
The price-less menu hints at class,
The waiter too, so be not crass.

Glance left and right; size up the joint.
Look at the crowd, but please don’t point.
Your collar’s crisp; your pleats are pressed.
And yet I find I’m blushing, stressed.

No algorithm makes it so,
No matter where you choose to go.
This much is true, the very least:
One can dress up and still be beast.
c2017 by Linda Ann Nickerson

Adapted by this user from vintage artwork.

This poem was posted in response to these prompts:
April A to Z Blog Challenge
National Poetry Writing Month / NaPoWriMo
Meme Express: “algorithm”

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