every time we make a left through traffic on the moped you’re screaming. sometimes we’re going slower than the bikers and other times you take a turn so fast and sharp i’m terrified for my elbow bones thinking they’ll scrape the concrete. your goofy teeth. your cute zit. you try eating dumplings first with chopsticks then with a fork and now you’ve settled for your fingers. they’re greasy. i watch how you handle anything--how you rub the cloth of a thrift store tshirt and how you pass the soy sauce. it’s all in the wrists, like you’re holding a fragile but diseased baby bird. i am amazed to be the one watching. i am amazed you like sex and the city and adam driver. i am amazed that every person in this city is not fawning over you like i am when we walk through it. a star crashed over my head and into new jersey while we sat there teeth bared.