I still taste it, that meal of vegetable that was prelude to
a trek I never intended to take, a place I never expected to, a cold gruel we
consumed rather than the real warmth I really wanted, a moment now long lost in time, irretractable, like a coin
dropped, rolled into a grate, a glittering things we ache to retrieve but beyond
our reach, she then dressed in a white button down blouse and paints that defined
each curse as if naked.
Why I look back now to that moment then, I can’t say, when
other moments might better suit my mood, more physical, more tender, the kiss
in the dark under the bar light or the accidental contact in her car, vegetables
I watched her prepared, chopped and diced, a fire warning to what might
transpire, what could have occurred, if things went another way, and ultimately
did, that breakfast overflowing in both of us with me left to recall
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