Thursday, February 28, 2013

Condiment Clouds



We scrape the translucent crust
of crystallized salt from the windshield,
growing thirsty with the effort.
The sky grows dark, the thunderheads
threatening to sprinkle the earth
with freshly ground pepper.
We ready our handkerchiefs. 

It's been a typically unpredictable April,
the days punctuated with intermittent showers
of ketchup and mustard, at times turning
to great green splotches of relish.

The weekend brought mayonnaise monsoons
that gave way to creamy tartarstorms,
despite the predictions of the TV weatherman,
who Wednesday night had adjusted his tocque
and pointed to the five-day forecast,
every day of which read "spicy." 

But whether the days are mild or pecante, 
we don our galoshes and splash
through the puddles of hot sauce,
past gutters clogged with salsa,
our umbrellas heavy with chutney.
We long for the summer,
when we will no longer have to wipe
the stinging globs of wasabi from our eyes
and can just enjoy the bland, 
flavorless sunshine.

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