17/30: Friendship is a saucer of soy sauce with wasabi gently folded in.
In my mind, I try to make time work for me,
as if my hands push each moment forward,
forging seconds to form long enough to
come together for something simple like dinner,
which will hopefully become a story we tell,
a memory we fold into
our wallets and slip into the pockets of time,
or throw back into the well like a wish for more.
It is Thursday in Austin,
a city of origin stories
Tonight, time was made
and I’m grabbing dinner
with Marshall and Pablo,
my best friends, old friends
still capable of making time
for new memories.
I try nigiri for the first time,
fatty bluefin tuna, king salmon, and yellowtail,
each piece carved clean from the body
They guide me through the menu,
I don’t know what I want, only
where I am and who I’m with
And isn’t this lovely?
Uncertainty is a gift,
The unknown can co-exist with truth
and what I know is true is the unknown still
makes me curious, makes the time
I have in any window compound like interest
when my cup is empty.
We take delight in every bite,
in the low light, blending into the
hum of conversations that surround us.
We disappear like a second order of dumplings,
losing track of time,
using our spoons to pick up the pieces
of each other’s puzzles.
A story as old as time.
A POEM A DAY 