Food,  Writing


I have drafts upon drafts upon drafts of writings in the cloud and some will never see the light of day-but when I stumbled upon this one, it made me chuckle. So, I thought I’d share it with you on my husband’s birthday, because, you know, bulgogi (불고기).


I dreamt of Korean food last night,
I dreamt of kimchi and pickles and meat,
Served by a headless man with a camera to replace,
There was no bulgogi,
Yet, that was the name of the restaurant,
Where signs painted on the windows to block the outside,
But we could see in and asked for it to be opened,
Cameraman obliged and let us peruse the naked store with nothing but a couple of buffet lines of food,
But no bulgogi.


Soon, I’ll share a recipe for our bulgogi. But, for now, all I have is words.


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