but do you like bacon?

we had not seen each other in years
during which divorce, break-ups, deaths, unemployment,
empty nests; they all happened as each day rolled
by, another meal, another recipe, maybe another disaster,
maybe a joy, we hoped to see each other again
over food, real food, not the Boulder no-bread,
no-cheese, non-gluten, but rather the do-I-like-bacon kind
of food over anything that works, over cabbage
where the bacon grease drips and soaks into it
roasting for an hour or so while we drink mint
mojitos and sautee potatoes and catch up.