Agoraphobia

There is something agoraphobic
about empty plates,
like deserted parking lots
while silverware taps
with the heels of a serial killer.
Such asphalt sea sickens for hunger.

Therapists urge confrontation
with open space through displacement --
steamed carrots and blanched string beans
instead of potatoes baked in duck fat,
even the projection
of green salad on table to disguise
the absence of creamy dressings.
A slab of grilled meat on a plate
is more alarming without gravy
and twisted towers of fries.