Category Archives: Food

Fruit Salad Recipe

~

I mixed the chopped Korean Pears, cayenne,

the honey, orange juice, the lemon zest,

molasses first then setting it aside

I cut the pineapple, the peaches, grapes,

bananas… voices chime in: grandma, dead

for twenty years, suggests coconut,

some celery, and marshmallows that with

some Hellman’s Mayonnaise would lighten, add

illumination, brightness rather than

the earthy darkness of the marinade

I made before. Uncomfortable with

the now, the past, my past, our past bemoans

extrapolations, innovations, strange

miscegenations, fusions seeking dreams,

idyllic notions that have never been.

I do not want a Waldorf Salad can’t

you see? I want sober realities.

I want what’s in my house right now. So, past

hallucinations, add some blueberries

and pecans, maybe raspberries as well—

we are creating something new (thank God).

Prompt: List your top 5 favorite fruits.

1:30am Surprise

~

I worked a double that day

I didn’t plan it or design it

it just happened—

someone got sick.

…

With a small budget from me

and a ride to the store

from my father,

my three children created

a time capsule

that I open

in emergencies.

…

Slathered in royal blue

icing and covered

with 32 candles; strawberry

swirled cheesecake

never tasted so good.

…

I had another double

the following day—

someone else got sick.

Overtime never pays enough.

Prompt: What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?

Gasps Over Scrambled Eggs—Haibun

~

Four twelve year old boys, the assistant scout master, and I camped amongst the Wasatch Front’s Douglas Firs in hammocks strung between the trees. From Tokyo, Seoul, Beijing, and LA, and new to the deep forest, these boys caught baseballs, played tag in the minty undergrowth, chopped dead wood, whittled kindling, cooked spicy ramen and eggs, and burned marshmallows and weenies properly and during the night as they slept a family of spotted skunks ambled in and pilfered our camp, waking me and my friend from Lahaina as the boys dreamed. We didn’t move. We froze as skunks investigated each boys hammock and our stomping grounds, tittering amongst themselves, rifling a bag of potato chips hidden in a backpack and sharing a bar of deodorant like it was an ice cream. We let the boys sleep. They didn’t need to know until morning, we had invaded a skunk family’s home that night.

Six litter bags

collected hiking down—

mist burning to summer heat.

Prompt: Have you ever been camping?

Math, Middle-School Boys and Cookies

~

I subbed math today at Dixon Middle School where my brothers, sisters and kids all went to middle school (I went to Tomlinson Junior High in Lawton, Oklahoma). I got to sub Math which is my second favorite subject to teach after English.

The first half of the day were the kids in main-line classes and the the second half was for resource and special-ed. The special-ed kids try super hard, but disabilities make learning hard. The resource-student, junior gang-bangers were trying to push buttons while I was trying to help those with disabilities, so I was getting frustrated. During forth period, twenty minutes before the lunch bell rung, I decided to mess with the rotten kids. I had already sent one to the office for threats, disruptions and profanity and I wanted to lower the stress level just a little.

I pulled out the pack of cookies I had set aside for lunch and started looking at them. These kids, especially the boys, were starving. I opened the package slowly. Smelled the cookies loudly. Picked one out and sniffed it as if it were a fine cigar. I acted like I was going to eat it, put it back, then quickly snatched it back and gobbled it down greedily. I then sighed loudly and drank from my bottle of Coke.

I then ate the entire pack except one. I held it up and addressing the one boy who looked like he was about to cry from lunch anticipation, I told him I was going to put it in my pocket and save it until I went home. This kid also happened to be the loudest and most abrasive, but he is a middle-school boy after all and his stomach is still more important than his homies, the girls or mathematics in particular.

Every once in a while before the bell rang I would pull it out and smell it again.

He was in agony.

Between classes during hall monitoring, I would pull the cookie out and show it to him whenever I saw him. He was funny about it, but his friends teased him a lot.

Finally at the end of the day as I was exiting the building, I passed him as he was waiting at the main entrance for his mom and ate the cookie right in front of him. I told him how it tasted, but he said he already knew what Triple Double Oreos tasted like with a grumble and a huff. He told me I was a punk, but I responded that every time I ate an Oreo from then on I would think of him.

Man, I love middle-school boys.