Nachos

As far as plates of nachos go,
it was one greasy-assed son of a bitch.

Even between the two of us,
we could not finish it.

We tried.

What was left,
were craggy mountains,
capped with huge cheese flows
and surrounded by pristine lakes of oil.

It sat on the table for a while
before it was taken away;
unceremoniously dumped in the garbage,
amongst the relics of other dinners.