knights and knaves

they say all is fair in love and war,
but what is love but unfairness in its totality?

i met a man at the asian store, my arms full of silken tofu jiggling in its plastic prison and jars of preserved fruits in liquids sickly-sweet, their flesh drowned in their own juices for my pleasure
he smiled at me and my stack of goods, a testament to both my unbending nature and my stupidity, a problem i could have solved by simply heading back towards the revolving metal doors and grabbing a basket
a problem i refused to fix
he did not ask if i needed help, his brown jacket sleeve brushing against my black one as he opened the freezer i was standing in front of so i could grab my favourite dumplings
the cold air brushing my cheeks, painting a slight blush across them that i promise was not there because of him

i thanked him, and he didn’t say a word to me, simply shutting the freezer and chuckling at me
at me, not with me

i cling to the memory of my stranger in the asian store
his kind eyes, his warm smile, the pressure of his arm against mine
why did he not say hello, say you’re welcome, say you are stunning, i love you, run away with me, my boy with the tofu in his arms?

i did not meet a man at the asian store, so to speak, so actually this entire poem is one massive lie
my words twisted, my tofu broken in its earthenware pot on the stove, slipping off of my spoon
my preserved fruits gasping for air as i open the jar

the cake i make with lemons is full of death, the spicy stew bubbling on the table is the broken bars of one escaped jail cell and the intact bars of the next, the plum yogurt bowl is the death rattle of a drowned memory

good morning, i love you
good afternoon, i love you
good night, i love you

bring me lemons when i go