Over tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches,
Greta tells us that she is broke but happy.
Ali already ate but she picks at my fries all night
and when she tries to split the bill evenly
my anger catches us both off guard.
How dare she put a price on this thing that we do –
becoming salty harbors
for each other’s secret, twisted yearnings.
Boursin on a stale pretzel with Carolyn
who wants us to love her new guy as much
as she does, frisée and free champagne with Audrey
who hates her boss. Anna pulls up Expedia
as I drown a broken heart in popcorn and vodka.
She has always wanted to go to New Orleans.
Maya feeds me her son’s leftover tofu straight from
the plastic tray of his high chair. This thing with your Dad
is serious, she says, passing me the bottle of soy sauce.
And after a dinner of Fernet and Campari,
Addie and I decide that all of life is suffering.
It’s true that technically the Buddha came up with that one
but drunk and weaving home through the Silver Lake hills
we feel like geniuses, two harbingers of original thought.
I’d spend my whole life wandering fertile plains
subsisting only on barley and honey and milk
just to find salvation in the hot, hungry mouths of my friends.

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Image: “Salami Rose” by Alex J. Tunney