roasted potatoes

you fell in love
with roasted potatoes
somewhere along the way.
it may have been
a moonless winter
night. you can still
see them shimmering
crisp in light olive
oil on the counter
in the big pan. how
perfectly seasoned they
were, peppers and salts,
sprigs of parsley,
some carrots were
in there too, but more
for color and decoration.
you remember how her
hand ladled them onto
your plate, gently
as it they would break.
and as you closed your
eyes to the first bite
you said to yourself
quietly, this is what
love must be like.
and she said what are
you mumbling about?