she returns
to the victorian kitchen with omnipresent windows
glowing white
to place the nearly consumed and
nearly iced pellegrino and lime
upon the mismatched beautiful table
he follows her
past the foyer of bicycles
through johnny cash’s voice
down the hall of
paleolithic plants, parisienne cat paintings,
and portraits of glorious youth
the gracious host in him offers her a muffin
she smiles but declines
choosing instead to wax romantic about
the nooks and crannies
he tells her he loves
the way she says nooks and crannies
they devour each other using only the eyes
she observes the refrigerator gallery display
pictures hotlines art business cards
declaring there is much to be learned
from a person’s fridge magnets
remembering the day
he noticed the little pink bows on her bra straps
sticking out of her blouse adorning her shoulders
in the front window of the bistro
making them the loveliest dining mannequin couple
on ludlow street
leaning against the sink to read the poetry he writes
on the backsplash tiles
as he offers her another muffin
this one glistening with fats
both
butter and cream cheese
she tells him grinning wickedly
that’s too many things from an animal
on one muffin
while looking up
admiring the mobile of bones stones acorns
sticks and feathers
hanging
from the kitchen chandelier
she tells him of her fondness of squirrel berets
he adjusts them slyly on the string and tells her straight-faced
it’s actually a barometer
she turns on her heel and walks out of the kitchen
and they laugh