“What do you think, Al?” I am pointing
to a freshly fallen mesquite bean.
There are no ants on it.So he turns
and his gaze follows my fingertip.
Does he understand what I’m
saying? I contemplate my ego,
my smallness, my
desire to have this be so. And so
he nibbles and lifts the bean
between his strong lips.
How fortunate I feel to
love him from close distance.
the sweet bean.