A Trickle It Wasn’t





A glass of water,
Knocked over carelessly 
On a restaurant table,
Seemed like gallons,
When being cleaned up.
The napkins and table mats nearby were soaked.
People next to the spiller blotted desperately
Trying to stem the flood of water, 
From sloshing over the table's edge 
Onto their laps.
The spreading tide of it also crept 
Toward the table's other edges...
And friends there ran,
Like they would from Vesuvius.
But one of them, in desperate avoidance,
Spilled his glass, too, 
Which found the rim of his plate,
Mingling water with his cheese omelette 
And home fries...
A combo not offered on the menu.
    The "Sorrys" to staff and lunching companions,
    Elicited just insincere, "It's OKs".