Storming away from the champagne flutes
And silver-bell-covered butter curls
He strode from the restaurant while
She, meekly, followed after him.
The waiter brought the full plates
To the empty table and, appearing flummoxed,
Took them back through the kitchen door.
While fellow diners whispered behind hands.
The general hush when they returned
To reheated fare and an ongoing squabble
Only served to make it obvious this was a control scenario
Designed to suck all joy out of an alleged treat.
He will only get worse.
He’s isolating you barb by barb from the world.
Once behind closed doors, his anger will grow.
Leave him now, before you reach that point.