The
gray air sat
Motionless
On
the shoulders of everyone
Bustling
along
The
busy Portland street
Fall
tries so hard
To
hold you in place
The
set up for winter
When
the crystal ice
Covers
every stationary inch
I
thought nothing of winter
My
hand grasped tight
As
my father led me along
We’d
met him for lunch
Found
him standing on the street
Awaiting
our arrival
Just
outside his office
Near
the Lloyd District
We
sought sustenance
In
the Chinese restaurant
Nestled
in the bottom corner
Of
some old building
Bright
and warm and welcoming
The
cold, wet outside air
Clung
to the windows
But
got no further
The
steam rose and gasped
While
delightful smells circulated
Soon
I received soup
Something
new
Not
the egg drop variety
I
had become enamored of
This
was thin and savory
With
floating noodle triangles
As
I bit into the slick noodles
There
was a little surprise
A
tasty little cube of pork
The
sky tried hard to break in
Hurt
by how easily we forgot
That
just outside the window
A
chill wind blew
Indifferent
I warmed my belly
Slurping
down wonton soup
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