smoke in my eyes

the bbqs are always his idea
he starts the fire, always with
mesquite wood, then begins
the cooking, taking care to
burn the first few batches
of whatever we’re eating
then he disappears with
his overdone skewers to
laze away the afternoon
in my hammock and
i’m left to tend the rest
of the sach ko chakak
and turn the slaap mon
and whatever else we
don’t want turned
into charcoal

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