"All the words you say at the end of the day"

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I can never forget the ceviche.

Every time I juice a lime, there's you in my kitchen that day.

Table set, meal prepared, tequila cocktail at the ready-

all that love squeezed into all that raw pink.

Me, work-weary & you, like silver, just polished.

Serving shine. I smiled so wide

a circus set up shop on my chin 

and used my lips for trapeze.

A hologram of the nothing that once was something.

Fresh citrus sting from fingertip to heart-folder: open memory. 

I am switching to the bottled kind to practice kitchen safety.

I do not wish to squeeze.

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