Dismantled Green

I got a salad
It is deconstructed
(A condition of which I was unaware when commanding its appearance)
Its vegetables segregated
Isolated by a desert of porcelain
What vegetative politics enforced this racist state?
Or was it divine intention that the greens (and reds) should be unable to create their own Babel?
To overthrow the chef god

Maybe it was structurally unsound
Lacking integrity and cohesion
And consequently had to be demolished
The materials recycled into new and better things
Or just kept broken apart
And fed to wankers who think empty space is a commodity

The cosmopolitan society that I yearned to devour
Was not in existence
Only
                        An
Incongruous
                                                            Arrangement
            Of                                                                                leaves
                                    And                  beans
                                                                                                Tomato
                        With some
           

                                                Cheese
And                  dressing
Which
Didn’t
Even
Cover
The
Entire
Dish

I’d give it back
But I’m best equipped to calm
The lonely crying vegetables