Of You and Me

Those cream teacups we saw in the art installation, the voices
of Arab women printed on them, quotes about arranged marriages.
Two mugs every morning – one tea with milk, one coffee with cream
and sugar. The four bags of good Italian coffee you surprised me with.

Something I’ve started lately. Not sure where it’s going.


How to Get Clean (draft 2)

Scrub grout from green and cream tiles along the tub’s rim;
seal the new, clean cracks with caulk. Scrub at the rings
left by his forgotten bottles of shampoo and conditioner, still
smelling faintly of cinnamon musk. He’s not coming back. Continue reading

What I Mean to Say But Haven’t (draft 1)

What I Mean to Say But Haven’t
After Lahiri’s Survivorman

Here’s a lie: when you told me you and your wife had been separated
for two years, so it wasn’t as if you were really married, I believed you.

Here’s a truth: the first time you kissed me up against my car
after a clandestine dinner at that Mexican dive bar, I kept my eyes open Continue reading

Hospitality and Judgment (draft 4?)

Women talk in hushed tones near each others’ ears. She’s sweet
as pie, but she don’t have the sense God gave a June bug! I add
one more cup of sugar to sun-brewed sweet tea, stirring with a wooden spoon
while the mothers in the kitchen discuss the impropriety –
the neighbor’s daughter dating a boy
the color of dried tobacco leaves. Bless her heart. Continue reading