The Dropped Bottle - July 26, 2024

the sesame oil that spread over

my kitchen floor has been sucked up

by a towel and wiped with cleaning spray

yet still reeks of a Chinese roadside

eatery without the crackle and sizzle

of bok choi and eggplant  the aroma

of frying beef or the steamy scent

of a large pot of white rice

probably the same smell inhaled by

the last one to leave that restaurant

at night . . .but which one? 

the chef chopping tomorrow’s vegetables

the bookkeeper balancing profit and cost

the dishwasher cleaning the giant greasy wok

the owner walking out with the money

the guy who wipes tables and mops the floor

or maybe it’s the homeless guy

slumped five feet away

from the back door

who’s mouth waters

just as it opens then closes