Cannellonni melanchony

His crisp white linen shirt was damp against the chiseled manly chest of his, as he entered the semi-packed Italian restaurant.

Ushered to his seat, He gently patted his dewy forehead…the sun was unmerciful that day.

I wondered if he was a Scorpio; he must be, a man with a pair of those dark, mystifying pupils that seemed to pierce the menu he was browsing… with hurry… or maybe with just raw, rugged masculinity that inhibited his long fingers.

I tried to steal a few glimpses of the masterpiece-on-feet sitting before me. My chuncky bangles rattled as my hand slipped my Miu Miu sunglasses on, to offer me some comfort while savoring in my dish of Chicken cannelloni.

His smile to the waitress tenderly parted his raspberry lips, only to expose two lines of meticulously arranged teeth…Where those teeth real? Genuine? God-gifted? Or simply pop-on veneers that would conceal probable ugliness, probable incompetence, per se? Was he as real as those teeth were?

“A man like that can’t be ugly…”

He delved into his rather saucy dish of sun-dried tomato and basil pasta. His face oozed with delight after every bite.

It was easy to notice that behind his scrupulously shaped beard was a baby seeking joy at every occasion… His sculpted roman features enveloped a true, pure spirit, an aura that beamed, contouring his halo…..

That or I’m just playing shrink today…

A sheepish smile caressed his blushed cheeks, as he realized the darkness of his beard was tainted by a contrasting stark white stain of sauce…

I couldn't get enough of my cannelloni that day…