from those places of serendipity

r and i are eating a late lunch of (sesame tinted) eggs cooked in that little bit of oil found on top of the sesame paste, (creatively sourced by r)
talking about god, shining out from those places of
serendipity,
when m comes home and we give him knuckle tats,
each taking one of his hands and meditating silently on a four letter word, before writing it in pen on his knuckles, and then revealing what pair of words it makes when he puts his fists together:

mood ring

i am sitting on the red couch in the corner at the potluck dinner, next to someone new and even though i didn’t want to come out at all tonight, i decide to say hello, and now we’re talking about the bowl with the handle
always better with a handle,
and the spoon, a superior utensil, and how i’m not the only one whose life for now comes in three month segments and he keeps smiling, the smallest smiles, his lips curling up at the corners of his mouth, and I am smiling too.

e (four and a half years old) went to the Natural History Museum with his mom, and so I ask him about the dinosaurs. here’s the question that no one can answer, he tells me, raising his eyebrows and his voice, his arms outstretched with the enormity of what he is going to say, what comes after the humans?.

good question, i tell him after a long pause.

maybe it goes like this, e says, dinosaurs, humans, then dinosaurs again.
maybe. i say.

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