Colors, carefully laid out.
Three reds. Orange. Green. Green.
Two whites. Brown. Yellow. Purple.
Someone had to be there to protect you, I thought
Red. Peppers. Red. Wine. Red. Tomatoes.
your mother was busy with her nightly rituals—your father
with his nightly coke. Not the kind you put rum in.
In my dream sequence…
Purple. Slice. Yellow. Slice. Purple. Slice. Salt it like this.
Onions. Three minutes.
Hands. Water. Cold. Water. Water. Water. Water. Warm. Water. Water.
White. Chop.
Sautee half olive oil half butter.
Basil. On that shelf there.
Water. Water. Water. Water. Hot.
Sponge.
Soap.
The dogs barked. We got the gun and jumped into the truck.
It was quite funny, really.
Mushrooms and eggs squeak when done. Plate.
Green. Chop. Orange. Chop.
I think we should use all the mushrooms.
Turn down the fire, please.
That time you came back
I was trying to protect you too.
French gray sea salt. On the bottom shelf.
No. There.
Glass empty. More?
Yes. Please.
…false hopes. What else?
I only knew false love then.
Lid. Steam. Glasses. Laugh. Taste.
More salt.
I just didn’t want you to get hurt.
The Black Forest is so far.
Stir. Timer. Taste. Bowls.
I guess I shouldn’t have worried so much.
Everything turned out fine.
Annisa Tangreen