It’s not my own kitchen, nor
my own language, so making
mac'n'cheese means using
Google to read instructions
on the pasta packet, the
cheese label and microwave

settings in translation include
energy, medicine, middle,
defrost, thermal insulation
time/sad child, perplexingly
making me wonder if indeed
happiness can be microwaved

do the older women I see
bent almost doubled, lifting
swathes of recyclables onto
hand carts, securing mountains
of cardboard taller than
themselves, know about this?

close by in sleek black luxury
behind tinted windows lurk 
Gucci Ummas in designer shoes
parking on the pavement to
slip into buy freshly made tofu
slipping through swathes of steam

down the road further at the
oddly named Richmall, you’ll
find the older ummas wearing
faded visors and floral shirts
towing hand trolleys filled
with store-bought tofu

what if they all knew they
could microwave happiness
would they want to?