March 15, 2022

all I want

Laurie’s in her kitchen, boiling water for a bowl of hot cereal. It’s lunch where I am, 
so maybe it’s the word “hot” that drifts me over to the cabinet where the canned goods 
live, and other things that could, in a pinch, keep us going for a week if the electricity 
goes out or, say, a war advances. And even though it’s bordering on spring and there’s
no sign of the kind of storm that will take the wires down, and the mayhem is happening
in a place where the alphabet looks upside down, suddenly, something hot is all I want, 
and there in the back is a cup of instant ramen that reminds me of college, that first year
when I was exhausted by my lack of experience in fending for myself. Certain evenings, 
I felt so lost I needed all that salt just to bring me back to earth, and to watch as each
freeze-dried vegetable came slowly back to life, resuscitated by the heat and my hunger.