What good is an attention span these days, anyways?

What good is an attention span these days, anyways?  Tapas are very popular, you see.  It is nice to get only a taste, and then move on.  It requires as much or as little investment in the outcome as you care to give. 

A poem can be built to deliver as much information as a scratch and sniff sticker.  A few short lines erected quietly in the middle of the night, modestly contracted, clean shaven before the sun rises.  Why not try to dwell in that fleeting twilight of a moment when flavors first hit taste buds, and then go no further? 

A writer can be a waiter, one that drops the food and walks away without a wink, while the table watches, confused with resentment.  Bring out just a tiny wooden paddle that carries a sloppy collage of images, textures, tastes, half-dreams and assertions, none of them rightly true and none of them rightly wrong.  Don't waste time with questions about the chef's time working in Paris, or their home life, or what sort of painters they like to consort with: take a bite, and spit it out if you like.  Tipping is optional.