There between the tortillas
and the frozen okra,
an old friend.
How is it possible
to love someone so much
but to forget that we love them
until quite by accident
we see them again?
Lucky for me,
I needed to buy tortillas,
and there they were, on sale,
our favorite brand.
There are many kinds of luck,
each like a rope
that rings a different bell.
Falling in love again
with an old dear friend,
even if the reunion lasts
only until the end of aisle two,
I feel in these three minutes like a little girl
pulling the rope of the cathedral
bells, and letting myself
be swung by the full body chime
as it dongs, dongs, dongs.