The first meal of the future, two years past
Was sushi from the grocery down the road
Sitting on the floor we
Moved our hands to pour the sake.
Poised the chopsticks just right to hold
The tires of sushi in their shiny plastic boats:
We wanted to go to Japan someday.
The meal made us relish in the dreams of things to come:
Marriage, apartment, life, travel
Visions we shared
Like memories we both recalled,
Only backwards
Now the last meal of that future
Tastes like the remnant of things
We built in those two years.
Frozen lima beans cooked hot with garlic
A sweet potato with honey
Served upon leftover
New Years Plates
Nothing is without its meaning
Now the Last Meal
of the First Place
Means other backwards nostalgias to come.
Cheers to that.
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