Impoverished

To celebrate some friends,
We had a dinner party,
A gathering that may soon be
A lost art, as the practice of years
Goes into any such meal:
Recipes tested and skills honed,
Kitchen equipment acquired,
Time to prepare and clean.
Who has these luxuries these days?

I read a book that claimed a third of people
In the United States struggle to get by.

For these people, convenience food
Is truly convenient,
As perhaps they have no oven,
No pots and pans,
No time to sleep,
Just a ceaseless toil
With some temporary hook-ups.

How glamorous, then,
My simple dinner party,
With bread, salad, applesauce, lasagna, cake.
How wealthy we are.

And to consider the lack, not just of food,
But of friends:

How many truly impoverished.