a thom browne feast
... dinner is served ...

a stately manor, a country house in stone.
at bluish dusk, a stream of headlights slice through evening mist.
tires crackle slowly along a gravel drive.

the guests have arrived.
stepping from the limo is horse, deer, lion, hippo, and pig.
each with thom browne bag in hand, ready for a bacchanalian feast.

giraffe with rhino and elephant welcome the revelers.
a stretch of the hind leg, a fluff of the mane.
a crunch of hoof, stepping from dusk into soft candlelight.

up the grand staircase,
the animals in their thom browne tailoring assemble.
some in check, some in grey flannel, some in heavy hunting tweed.

;

then on to the drawing room for champagne.
a story in neighs, an anecdote in oinks, a riposte in roars.
champagne served from exquisitely designed man tables.

and now for the feast.
animals gather in the banquet hall,
giraffe at the head of the table.

thank you friends for coming tonight.
always a pleasure to hear your growls and snorts.
let the main course be served.

giraffe steps to the center.
a polished knife wielded with animal dexterity,
plunged into classic thom browne suit clad man cake.

;

frosted layers in red, white, and blue.
a delectable treat, says rhino to horse. a culinary triumph, says lion to hippo.
might i have another piece, don’t mind if i do.

the champagne flows, the night grows wild.
a raucous event, a celebration gone mad, a menagerie let loose.
an eruption of thunderous applause.

the sun peaks over the horizon, the party winds down.
a little sleepy in the morning light, the revelers make their way outside.
a stumble, a fumble, giraffe bids all a good day.

;

Dinner Is Served | Journal Article