When Fall comes, I think of you.
Because no one else has replaced your presence yet. No one else has appeared at just the time you did, so my memory of them would be connected to a rising chill, descending days and my winter coat. You still occupy that particular space, so each year, I pull you on with my knee-high black leather boots (only to be worn in after Labor Day, you know); I scratch you into my skin with my 100 percent wool cowl-neck sweater and I cocoon myself within you in my pile of winter blankets.
Of course, you marked me, so you stay with me. But that’s not why I think you in the Fall.
I think of you because no one else has come to rent out your seasonal space, the same way I think of food poisoning when I see pecan pie.
That’s it.
When the Fall comes, I think of you. Because of a logistical glitch.
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Hey Mela- That is a poetic masterpiece, with a biting glance of botulism. Nice work, and thanks for sharing! xo, haircutter
Love the pecan pie connection. I have never thought of those reminders, those stupid synaptic patterns that cause one to be reminded one of some past long-dead relationship, in quite that way. But it works for me.
That’s the Mela that I’ve missed!
thanks for sharing.
hope you are having fun out there in this big wide ridiculous world!
b- maybe you need to lay off the sauce! Or syrup. Too much of something.
Mela,
Mary makes the most wonderful pecan pie in the world! How could you juxtapose food poisoning with my favorite pie in the world? I promise NOT to tell Mary at Thanksgiving.
Huggie buggies,
Mom
Because the last time I ate pecan pie, I got food poisoning. Hence, the juxtaposition. It’s not heresy. Just the facts.
now that’s hilarious irony.
…apparently, nothing’s funny to me like vomiting. eeew.
Mela,
Whose pecan pie did you swallow? Not Mary’s? How can anyone get food poisoning from pecan pie? Are sure about the nuts?
Huggie buggies,
Mother
I ate pecan pie at a restaurant in May and spent the next day puking my guts out.