118 – Original Sin

Original Sin

The Thai place on the corner

I never remember the names of

is closed again. A sign in the window

announces Classic Thai Restaurant

open soon! I ponder

dried Thai chilies

and ginger slivers, coconut curry

blooming white and green.

How many ways are there to make pho?

Sticky rice is sticky rice is sticky rice.

When I get home I’ll find

a small white wax-lined box

at the back of the fridge, hidden

for a week behind the milk and pickles.

The noodles with spicy broccoli–

three chilies–could be from any shop.

The rice will be dried out, a granular brick stuck

to the bottom of the container.

I know this will not end well.

It never does. I regret the decision I’ve made,

have made a thousand times.

I’ll eat it anyway.

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