February 17, 2005

Black Spaghetti

Determined to create something
sophisticated and exotic
and adult,

we filled the kitchen
with dirty pots
and dirty jokes,

with the sharp, strong scent of spices,
and the sharp, strong sense of intimacy

of the sort that can only live
in the kitchen.

We chopped onions
(seasoning them with the inevitable tears),
and shared tomato sauce-smeared kisses,
and licked olive oil
(extra virgin)
off one another's fingers.

Later, tasting
the fruits of our rambunctious labors,
we could not stop smiling,

the night sliding away
between our lips
like black spaghetti.

Winter 2005.

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