When offered as an invitation,
say for a wedding reception,
where you find an RSVP request
in a colored card paper, and you go,
you get mixed up like coffee, cream and sugar,
swirling indefinitely in a cup,
in this complex group dynamics,
and when placed in a table,
I know the meal has come to its end.
Whenever I see your smiling face
I like to write simile myself,
about the light that fell on my hands,
still holding fork and knife,
enjoying this new web of interactions,
an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand,
forging our social contract, mutually licensing
you and me, to ask the question.
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