The two borscht day
when the bus arrives just as you decide to take it and it stops in front of
the first of two of the three best remaining restaurants
of the territory of your ancestors
the friends you've been waiting for years to find,
just the right clever things, the second bowl
the boys game, your elbows on the table
the table's a load of shit.
careful- a high on your power day: don't speak to fast.
landing smoothly backwards through the crowds next to the boy you like with his friend.
the buzz under your elbow on the table, the glow of the day, the smiley face,
desire transferred sideways
The glow of the generations you know and the ones you're recalling
the glow of cheeks in the cold,
what is being said, really? when
everything-for a time- lines up just right.