At the Gold Stone Noodle Restaurant

It was chow-mein, or rice noodles maybe.
Which one is crispy?
It tasted divine that night,
after High Park at the Scream.
Cryptic to cute, to pure flow,
words off the page and into the air.

Leaving after dark,
going the wrong way,
almost falling down laughing.
One leading, another hunting wolves,
and the last smiling
as they all so surely walked south.

The car was in the north.

A half hour later,
parked to the side
a world opened up
filled with dumpling delights
noodle dishes
bok choy
water chestnut.

So full!
"You know,
it's not good to sleep
with your stomach so full."

But bedtime was farther away than planned.

"Oh my God!"
Hands over mouths, eyes wide,
and a sea of glass shards.

Still, it took a minute to say
"Hey. The window's broken."

Callthepolicecallthepolice.
What'sthenumber?911.Nocan'tcallthatit'sforemergencies.
Where'smycellI'llcalltheoperatorI'll

It was gone.
Everything was gone.
So many things

just

not

there.

Everything was gone.

"Take a breath. Maybe..."

And then
keys,
a planner,
a little black change purse
crammed with with cards,
that stuff without which
you quite nearly do not exist.

And then

Pushed by a bit of wind,
reflecting a bead of light
was a glint of sapphire,
bringing with it the memory
of a hand extended, bearing gifts.
"It's a friendship bracelet."

White string
tied in a flat sennit pattern,
with three translucent blue beads woven in.
Hanging off the rearview mirror.
A lucky charm.


And seeing it there,
seeing everyone there

It was alright.
It was okay.

Everything.