Dice potatoes into small boxes of want.
Chop onions until tears tang them with longing.
Slice red peppers until the cutting board
spills your heart.
Sauté them in avocado oil, sprinkle
kosher salt, drink a shot of whiskey,
remember you quit smoking
more than 15 years ago
and regret it.
Put on the rice, sprinkle of salt, spoon of oil,
let boil, let simmer, keep on the heat.
Take a breath without hiccupping that cry.
Don’t question where the sadness blooms from
because you know the field
is green and fertilized
with rot
that doesn’t even smell anymore.
Drop in the chopped meat, pour in some whiskey
why not, and some more oil, of course,
and spoon in some cumin.
Chop and stir,
chop and stir,
take another shot
recognize you’re already starting
to forget
again with a blessing of thanks to Gd.
Spoon in garlic,
chop and stir,
spoon in onion powder,
chop and stir,
spoon in black pepper,
chop and stir,
spoon in salt,
spoon in oregano,
spoon in the tomato sauce,
throw a kiss to heaven,
take another shot,
your last of the evening,
spoon in all the love
that blooms from
the same fertilized field
where the thorny memory of every
stupid thing you ever did
scrapes the inside of your veins
clean of purity
for which there is no room
in this house.
Chop and stir.
Simmer.
Let the thoughts come
like vignettes of movie stars
making mistakes
but you’re the star
making all the mistakes
and none of them matter
too much anyway.
When your wife and kids
sit at the table
they will tell you how
delicious, amazing
it all tastes.
And you know that the secret
ingredient
is the refinement of your soul
found in the knowing
that all of this
won’t last.
The food will be gone.
The kids will leave one day.
Both of you will be alone with
each other thinking of old times,
like when you smoked
and stayed up all hours
and ordered in.
None of this matters
to anyone but them
right now
waiting to eat your food
that you have refined from the raw
to feed them.
And what could matter more.
Serve with a smile.
Image from Flickr.
