on a school trip
I stood in the buffet line
befuddled, frightened
perhaps even scoffing
at the Grecian feast on display
so foreign and inscrutable to me
to my cohorts I proclaimed
"I won't try that!"
like the ignorant American I was
sitting down to eat
with a child pallet's plate
Joel, a friend
his meal stuffed with every offering
calm, determined, said
"My parents didn't pay all that money
for me to come here and not try everything I can."
like a luke warm splash of water - shame
shame for my entitlement
like a heady prickling of pepper - anger
anger at the oblique rebuke
but then an electric bolt - epiphany
he was right, this was the experience
we had traveled so far to have
and looking inside myself
it was not preference but fear
returning to the line I piled high.
And then O' Reader did I gorge
grilled meads and honeyed fillo
unctuous sauces and fluffy pita
dishes I could not describe or name
seconds, thirds, fourths
overcome by the deliciousness
the wonderous variety
I was converted. Reborn.
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