Birthday

The plates came out, one by one

It was a buffet at Mr Bird’s food stall

“First time you try real Thai, have to try all

- no pad kee mow for you today, ha –ha - ha! ”

There was a parcel of green bamboo leaves

And the layers unfolded

like wrapping paper on a birthday present

to reveal a stuffed chicken wing

There was a salad of minced pork,

tied with strings of carrot

Orange ribbons, too intricate to be eaten.

A lemon sat on the side of the plate,

Naked, with its skin grated off

“Yellow part of lemon – best part for salla”

There was salty soup, with goong as anchors

And lemongrass sticks floating like boats

My mouth caught fire and cucumber came to the rescue.

“Picasso, Picasso, here some for you too!”

It was the first time for the both of us

To have human company during a meal

And after we ate Mr Bird’s version of birthday cake – purple sticky rice with custard

We sat on the table of empty plates,

Drinking whisky and trading photographs of our loved ones who had passed.