When my girlfriend invited me on a long weekend in the mountains
to talk & renew our traditions that began in Sophomore Year
I imagined a few lazy afternoons filled with ice cream raids &
nail polish & weepy Julia Roberts vehicles (well, for gals like us)
& when I arrived I was handed a glass of cabernet (no problem)
I was given tastes of the delicious courses she’d been fixing—
little forkfuls of greens w/ shaved pecorino—little spoonfuls of
quinoa pilaf—little forkfuls of sweet potato gnocchi (no problem)—
but when dinner had ended she set out a bowl of frozen berries
on the coffee table & began to shake out of her pocketbook
a long, pliable object, well, it was then that I dashed for my car
of course we could’ve renewed our Sophomore Year traditions
at any fashion mall (duh!) but the real worry was my intuition—
w/o it nothing is bright & nothing is safe & nothing is clean!
[NaPoWriMo Sonnet #10. Too, see: Dan Gutstein Speaks to the Cat.]
4 comments:
"nothing is safe" indeed
all i'm saying is -- beware of someone who offers an embassy that includes shaved pecorino. there are many ways to be diplomatic after all! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------BA
no arguments here!
(*that said, i wonder if the shaved pecorino embassy has ever worked. *is there some, er, chemical, in the pecorino that lowers the inhibitions? *hmph.) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------BA
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