Answering the calls

[Encia22]

...
A salty-tasting but fascinating menu.
Plates pile up beside a rarely found recipe on an oak table.
Others booked a table, but the remaining seats lay empty.

An answering machine message.
A fellow traveller seeking to fill in the musty blank pages.
Is this poison fruit on the mind's baking tray?
Unwrapping toffee-coated signals.

The grand dining hall doors creak.
Another seat at the table is taken.
On the chair is the bag of enlightenment seeds.
From those seeds, an inkwell is filled.
Yet many pages remain unwritten.

Wow, utterly fascinating, xpert11.

I can't explain it any other way than I felt like I was 'reading' a Salvador Dali painting... if that makes sense.

And, just like the Master's paintings, I get lost in it; I keep on reading your poem and keep finding new details... and can't escape the 'canvas'.