The Caviar Thief





With the darting eyes of felony,
He, furtive, walked, plush carpet-quiet
Towards the hors d'oeuvres table,
A plate partially hidden by his side.
Then, epee-quick,
He scraped nearly all the caviar
Onto his plate,
Leaving behind the garnishes
And a hint of the roe that once was there,
And skulked away 
With the sunny face of innocence.