rock cornish game hen under glass
at the rehearsal dinner father
decided on cornish game hen and
purple potatoes and string beans
everyone eventually figured out
how to get at the damn thing
either by word-of-mouth or
step-by-step instructions
as the servers cleared the tables
all I could think about was how we
used to smoke hash under glass
right there on his dining room table
november two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I don’t know if it’s my phone or what, but lately, the audio recording bar has been covering up the last line of your poems. So I’m often missing the last few words.
I just put an extra line break at the end did that fix it?
Yes. Thank you very much. 🙂
The last line is pretty important in most cases.
The poem is perfect. I so look forward to reading your poems every day.
I can’t decide which sounds better — the meal or the hash.
haha!
;`)