Sunday, January 20, 2013


you offer: Fork or Knife?
i want chopsticks.
your eyebrows come in at the center of your forehead.  asymmetric face, barely perceptive, but a scar on your chin creates the difference.  i can see you don't understand my need to fumble, eat slowly, enjoy one or two noodles while you use your shovel to gather colors, flavors, textures in your mouth all at once.
you are done and on to the next thing, dropping your plate in the sink next to coffee mugs stained with used tea leaves.
i stay.
i pick up yellow.  i pick up green.  i pick up slippery extensions with bits of egg sticking to them, licking the sauce from my fingers.  the pages i turn gain a slight discoloration on the edge from bits i miss.
your spice level was 3- my eyes burned when i sit thigh to thigh with you and i got too close.  mine is 1- barely perceptible for you, but plenty for my pale skin eyes hair.
maybe that's why i eat with chopsticks.
i want to notice everything everything EVery thing.
you take it all in one go quickly judgements made.
do we balance?
or do we collide?