DROPPING THE OMELET
I dropped an omelet in her lap.
No plate. Just the omelet.
"What's this?" she said.
It's an omelet, I said.
I've been working on it a long time.
I broke the eggs (after inspecting each one
for any unintended nuance). I diced
the vegetables and the meat well into the night.
My knife was sharp.
I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat.
I tried to keep it free of self-delusion---but
it had to get done regardless.
And now it's an omelet.
Are you hungry?
She looked down on her lap.
"I'm honored," she said.
