Lori placed unwashed moonbeams to a kettle
even though the stew recipe did not call for it.
She added disappearances, forgotten dialogues
and a dash of rising tide.
Lori seasoned it with a pinball
that survived a billion flashing light plays.
It had been years since she added pass with care signs
to anything she cooked.
A map of unintelligible emotions went in
with the compass spinning like a top.
The stew simmered for hours
and cooled on the winter porch overnight.
Lori reheated it for a luncheon
for unknown friends desperate for love.
Only when a bite of chocolate finished the meal
did an ache for the unappreciated ignite.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney