The guy drinking Seven Tails on the rocks scoops a lemon from his glass and lets the flea live.What else is mercy but a…
Sometimes my appetitescrolls back to the dayswhere I never worriedabout greasy pleasuresdripping in sugared condiments,and I want to be back at the Paris Dinerwith…
I would like to have six days back,one for each decade, as a minimum,for not having to think about holdingmyself inward, moving one leg…
The courtyard, cool, the menu en españolwe, a gringa and me, her sullen mate,both barely awake. The huevos, Oaxacan,a cold dish my wife begins…
so, I’m spinning around the roomcircling my kitchen islandlike Billy Collins searching for the perfect metaphorlike a shark in quest of cheesecovering my plates…
how bright my face shines I keep my bodyhungry to test pain’s proximityoranges remind me of dried bittersin whiskey not you a little bit…
Out of temper, stirredto a mantra of degreesI repeat to keep myselfawake in the kitchen, whereI might be blisteringtomatoes or toasting breadin the rich…
I usually just eat it like this. Kiwis with their skin on seeds in spices turned black the squashsplitting its hairs from inside out just…
Salad forks scrapeacross scalloped platesfrom a window I watchthem serve the main course:duck au confitavec herbs de provencesatin dresses & designer suitseach face same…