It’s difficult to change anything in someone’s space
I only have the spare key, not the user manual
You don’t want me to clean up your mess,
Like those dirty handkerchiefs around your bed for example
Alright buddy, the privilege is yours
But do it for tomorrow,
I’d hate to overstep your dignity

Being your personal assistant is not my favourite part anyway
My secret plan was to make you have a proper dinner,
After I did the shopping, the pharmacy, and other domestic stuff.
It came a few visits later
I suggested you might wanna eat something warm and tasty,
Rather than sodas, fruits, half a cracker, or a yogurt
That is to say not much
And it was not for the cooking pride of it
Our first meal together
Would be a simple catering tray of tagine
Which I prepared in your frying pan,
Cuting the chicken in very small slices
So you might chew them easier and nicer

It was the smell of it in your kitchenette :
For weeks you’d nearly forgotten what food smells like,
What a decent meal smells like,
Taken moreover by the novelty of having it fixed for you
No dinner table though,
And I’d struggle to find us a clean knife and fork,
But here we got, sharing a pleasant dish on your desk
And although your appetite was still short
You almost finished your plate,
With a constant and extatic enjoyment,
Like someone really did you a great favor
Then you had your post-dinner cigarette
And began to tell a few stories and things,
As if having another human home in the evening
Appeared so natural

On my next visit, you insisted on how easier the sleeping came that night.
You had this custom of revisiting the whole day when your eyes closed,
And the summing up for once, had felt so much better
With a simple friends dinner.