the shop you almost walked past
(Okinawa)
the outside said keep walking.the two stone lions by the door said otherwise,grinning like they knew something.i ducked under the faded curtainand the inside opened like a grandmother's kitchen,sweet heat, spice climbing the air,families folded on the floor,smiling in the silence of serious eating,bowl after bowl after bowl. one small white fan swiveled its head,left, right, left,a patient elder cooling the sweatthat may have been the brothor may have been Okinawa.i never settled which. the islanders say nuchi gusui.food is medicine.i left with a full belly,cured of a hungeri had not thought to name. — tachi
next in the short breaths board meeting 