Eating is Believing

This ode is written for Anthony Bourdain and for those who stayed behind An Ode to Anthony Bordain   I watch you speak to a baby on the  Gaza strip, to a cat in Quebec and a  teenager in Beirut. You speak in order to listen, to understand, to bring voice, to celebrate. You listen  to those on the other side of the  track. The outsider, the immigrant... Those long forgotten. You speak to  the bikers, the loners, the dreamers. You speak to those who slink on the margins of our world, a room where the bed is  always unmade- for the romantics. You listen to how they chop onions and cook. You listen to their frying pans and their fires. You are watching them, your eyes are dry, but I know they are not,  and your hands light up, your eyes, your belly, that soft part on your chin.   You listen to the musicians as they play and accompany you to the eating houses and battlefields, the broken street corners and the wonder of inspiration, gods,  instruments, voice, lyrics, drums, and  those with