I feel like I’ve known you forever,
you fry me chips,
I sit on the counter,
even though you’ve told me not to,
my fingers pulsing against the plastic menus,
as I compose the drum beat from a song I’m going to write about you.
You lean over,
gloved hand on my glowing cheeks,
a kiss, on a background of sparkling, splashing oil,
and I lose my place,
but I’ve found the place where I belong.