Scraping the burnt garlic into the sink;
another dinner for the disposal.
This is not for you.
Neither is the sweet oil.
(Admonished; ground and gone.)
A stubble of charcoal from the filter
rolled
on the skin of your knee:
This is yours, as is
the red, tight crescent remaining in your glass
Someone's tires grab close, braking
on that right turn,
And screech for your street
Like a cheerleader.
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