number seventeen, no msg

at 3 p.m. the china kitchen
is empty.
it's just you and the woman sitting
near the front folding
menus. she's wearing a red
kimono and nike tennis shoes.
there is a fish tank with one
white fish swimming
in a green broth of bubbling water.
he comes to the glass
to look at you. you take out
your phone and take his picture.
there is no reason
for doing so, but it's something
that you do anyway.
he turns to the side like a
soft hand, swimming away,
which is only a foot
in either direction.
the woman tells you
the specials, while you point
at number seventeen
and say no msg.
she nods and shuffles
towards the kitchen.
it's just you and the fish now,
your lives are so alike.