Putting it all together

Cigarettes after sex after dinner, after a delicate tartare with an egg yolk running loose over our intertwined utensils, after a full-bodied red that soaked up all the light in the room, save against your face and outstretched hand, after a cocktail now with yuzu and a bright-green sprig of rosemary that reminded me of my wintery childhood home, because in the cold months all we had was each other and a couple of plastic sleds, but mainly each other, after an opening procession of champagne and ice and tall glasses high in vigor, taking it all in with the last deep breath of the night, after a mixup with the Maitre d’ because I always speak so nasally over the phone in a rush, and I’ve really been in a rush the whole season, but I always slow down when I’m cooking for you, because I enjoy being deliberate when I have purpose for someone else, the slow chop of the garlic prior is when I think of all the lovely things I’d like to tell you as we cook, after we absorbed a few miles of traffic on the drive over, absorbed it deeply in our hearts, but we finished the whole EP we share love for, and that’s a pleasant dichotomy when the sun trips low, after each of our inboxes hit the magical zero in simultaneous uncomprehendable fashion, reading your eyes is like reading a room, lines on a page