" You have sauce on your chin..."
" hum... you know Styl, I lived in Lisboa for about
a blissful year. Sold art in the market at the Rue
De Agusto, and we lived in a big second floor
studio with 12 foot windows and a view of the
ferry dock and the other side of the river...
I recall all sorta smoked fish...yep,
I never remember Portuguese barbecue..."
" ...in my house Jess, if someone talked while we
were eating, my brother's would throw them out
into the snow..."
" I guess I'd be in the snow alot eh?..."
"...Yeah. Pass that sauce... bloody good, no? "
We eat in silence.
Shared coy glances,
and two bottles
of cheap Chilean wine
while chattin' up the
waitress Malie, from Mexico.
Ensanada B.C. , I think.
Later we debate why we are here,
and together in this weird
tasty joint found by fluke...
...then confessed why
we're not back
where we were...
We agreed
things happen.
Things change.
Couldn't be any other way,
we'd try not to make the same
mistakes,
again.
be well todo mundo,
J.Level
