Seven Conversations in a Kitchen Built for Two (Cousin Love)

Lyrics

[Verse 1 — Sisukiro]
My cousin Margaux
has called me Kiki
since I was six
and I have asked her
to stop
every year
for twenty-nine years
and the asking
has become the tradition
and the tradition
has become the love

She knows things about me
that I have spent
a professional lifetime
unlearning
Like the summer I was twelve
and ate an entire tarte tatin
by myself
in a closet
because the other cousins
were swimming
and I was reading
and the tarte
was closer than the pool

[Verse 2 — Orikusis]
My cousins in Hue
send me photographs
of a table
I used to sit under
The table has not moved
The cousins have multiplied
Em ho toi dong lam
My cousins are so many
The photographs
keep adding faces
I do not recognize
in kitchens I remember
and the kitchens
look smaller
than my body remembers
which means
either the kitchens shrank
or I grew
and the photographs
are not sure which

My cousins in Paris
are different animals
Louder
Their French has replaced
the parts of Vietnamese
that carried the politeness
and what remains
is honest
which is another word
for someone
who will tell you
your coat is ugly
while handing you
a better one

[Pre-Chorus — Both]
You cannot fire a cousin
You cannot unsubscribe
They arrive
with opinions
and containers of food
and the containers
never match the lids
and the opinions
never match each other
and this
is the whole system

[Chorus — Both, full brass chaos]
Seven conversations
in a kitchen built for two
Somebody's child
is under the table
Somebody's mother
is correcting
somebody else's rice
Somebody brought a cheese
that nobody asked for
and the cheese
is now the center
of the only argument
that matters

Cousins are the friends
your blood made for you
before you had
a preference
and some of them
you would have chosen
and some of them
you endure
and all of them
know the version of you
that wore overalls
and cried at fireworks
and they will produce
this version
at every gathering
like a photograph
you cannot confiscate

[Verse 3 — Sisukiro]
Margaux and I
share a grandmother
who is no longer here
and when we sit together
at the table
that used to hold her
we become the grandmother
by accident
I make the face
she made
when someone
talked too long
Margaux does the thing
with the bread
where you tear it
instead of cutting
because our grandmother
believed knives
at dinner
were for people
who did not trust
their hands

[Bridge — Both, slightly softer]
Anh chi em ho la gia dinh minh chon
Cousins are the family you discover
not the family you build
They were there
before your memory
started recording
and they will be there
after your plans
have changed shape
seven times

The cousin
who remembers your overalls
is the keeper
of a version of you
that you need
to exist somewhere
outside your own head
because the version of you
that you have built
is impressive and curated
and sometimes
you need a room
where someone says
remember when you cried
at fireworks
and you can say
yes
and the yes
is not a confession
it is a homecoming

[Final Chorus — Both, full brass, joyful]
Seven conversations
in a kitchen built for two
and the kitchen
has expanded
because kitchens
are like families
they hold more
than the measurements
say they should

Margaux still calls me Kiki
The cousins in Hue
keep sending photographs
The table has not moved
The child is still
under it
and the cheese
is still wrong
and the rice
is still being corrected
and nobody has left
and nobody wants to
and the kitchen
that was built for two
is holding twenty-three
and the walls
have not complained
once