There was a place to eat
At the far end of a row
Of stores that formed a strip mall.
It served the best black-bean soup.
You knew the name of the place,
The mall, and how to get there.
Once a week, you stopped to eat,
To have a bowl of that soup.
It was a part of your life.
You moved states, changed jobs, moved on.
You saw large swaths of the world.
You did not come back. Not once.
What was the name of that place?
They served the best black-bean soup.