The first time
I met you.
The first time I remember
meeting you that is
The first time
in my childhood irritation
When I tossed you aside
Still glistening
With oil and aroma
Coated with fragments of broken rice
A cumin seed or two
A soft, translucent slice of stained onion
The first time
on that saucer
That bone-plate for debris

That first time...

I never thought about you
Never drank in your fragrance
Never licked your surface
Never closed my eyes
Never
took in
the subtle
texture
of your epidermis

I begrudged
your inclusion
in that world
of ever-greater
culinary
conformity
Where liver
and other misfits
had long ago
been ejected.

I remember
your cracked rolls being lit
The smoke dancing through my sinuses
The coughing
The white
wafting out
of my nostrils
As it grappled
with the common cold
And the thin membrane
That coated the interface
between
ancient wisdom
and the fragments
of cultural amnesia
that still
floated through the air.

And now,
I just smile
And the warmth of your aroma
seeps through my memories
like the gentle arms
of an old friend's embrace.

So I close my eyes,
take handfuls of you to my face
And breathe you in
Deeply.


---Jib, 20 Jun 2001