Thirty-Five

Sweet milky white
rice fills my mouth.
I am not hungry but
we eat to be together.
Etched on corners are
graffiti of religions,
spiritualities and
aphorisms we sing
to lullaby us to sleep
through life. Smile
and cry and die here
a mass of beating
hearts and firing
neurons. And we'll
say it was worth
it because we knew
the warmth of human
love and a happy belly.