Dim Sum

October brought us to
the table.

Rain fell on the window and we passed
Sunday afternoon
peering into carts
and asking for refills of
green tea.

This, and that, and that.

Satisfied, I felt as if my heart had been
touched.

Over time, we found our
favorites.
By March we asked for
shaomai first and
laughed about it.

It came in fours bites,
two apiece.

In June I flinched at the
sound of your
chopsticks,

snapping.

Apart.

You ate three pieces of
shaomai at that meal.
The leaves at the bottom of my cup
said nothing.

We looked up when thunder broke our
silence.
Raindrops hit the window and you asked for the
check.

M.Scofield August 3, 2008