Cream of Asparagus

I'm not even entirely certain that that's what it was. But, a few years ago, a very good story happened to me. I was sixteen years old in another country, I had no phone to contact my parents, and I tested positive for COVID-19. So, I isolated from my travel group in Aurelio's house, alone with a few books. Aurelio's wife very graciously cooked dinner for me on that first night, before another patient joined me and we drove each other insane instead of ourselves. She spoke almost no English and I didn't speak much more Spanish than that, enough to express gratitude and that was really all.

That first night, delirious with sick and scared, she made a thick green soup. She said what it was, and I forgot. It is still the best thing I have ever tasted in my life. I am determined to figure out what it was-- I've ruled out Brussels sprouts but spinach is still possible, though I'm leaning asparagus.

Other, more interesting things happened amidst that delirium. I taught some kids how to play an art game, I watched a volcano erupt, I read an already-strange book in one confused sitting and likely launched my interest in an entire genre, if not career. Somehow the soup seems more important. A meal from a stranger when I was the most alone I've ever been.

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The Patio

Where gray polyvinyl chloride meets Drying strands of grass, like wheat Which makes no grain, only waves In sunlit breezes through the day. Chairs older than my oldest tooth Wear metal grating wound with roots From ivys which do not know poison, Only sweet tea, coffees, the noise one Makes when they step into the morning After a night full of dreams like warnings. The wind chimes snake-rattle, the mint leaves Attempt infinity, bound in a pot that won't keep. And the sun loves me here. He sings To the top of my head, and makes me king.

Buying Dinner

On a day when classes were driving me and my friend crazy, we accidentally spent an entire day together. After doing a little homework, watching in inadvisable amount of TV, and going on a hike, we decided to hop on a bus and go to the fancy neighborhood. On the way, we called another friend and decided to all meet up later, to eat dinner and watch the next episode of X-Men '97. I love adventures. This adventure was cozy and non-threatening, which is even better. The fancy neighborhood is a little downtown area in the historical district. We joked that we felt European, because the roads are cobblestone and street-lights were wrought-iron. Vines were climbing up buildings in a cute way, not a dilapidated one-- we were living it up! Fancy neighborhood is also home to one of my favorite stores, a suitably fancy vinegar and oil store. I like going there and asking for lots of samples and not buying anything, so I convinced my friend to go with me. As we should have expect...

Bumping into Strangers

I have a special laugh that I only use when I almost run into a stranger. Usually this happens when I am distractedly leaving a room-- today it was as I left the restroom to go study, because I was thinking about Mr. Rogers and his not-so-secret 143 code. Anyway I love bumping into strangers because it is the perfect everyday amount of embarrassing. I will laugh my bumping-into-strangers-laugh, she will smile awkwardly, I will apologize, and we both go on our ways. I also love bumping into strangers because it requires that we both stop and make brief eye contact and notice something about each other. Today my stranger had long black hair and smiled mostly without involving her teeth. I would never have noticed this about her if I hadn't almost run her over. I'm trying to invite embarrassment into my life more. Living passionately necessitates humiliation, so I am performing at open-mic nights and making brutal small talk with people whom I've got nothing in common with. ...

Every Day a Love Letter

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