This poem is about a woman’s mayonnaise.
It is not about the missing puzzle piece of sky above her.
It is not about her untouched french fries.
Or the reasons her cheeseburger is only one-third eaten.
Her mayonnaise calls out for the Fenrir Wolf
to break its chains and end the world with Ragnarök.
Her mayonnaise calls to the silver broach the woman wears,
knowing the canine it portrays is an exact likeness.
The woman has not thought of the broach
since she attached it to her blouse this morning.
She is oblivious to the broach’s desire
to heed her mayonnaise’s call to initiate Ragnarök.
To the horror of horror fans and lupine mythology buffs
the waitress busses the plate with mayonnaise to the dishwasher.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
One day I watched a woman not really eat her green chili cheeseburger and how she slid her fries through mayonnaise instead of dowsing them in ketchup or some other condiment. I understand fries dipped in mayonnaise is popular in some parts of the world, but is unusual for Albuquerque. (I’ve tried it and like it, but better with sweet potato fries. And it depends on the mayonnaise.)
Why I thought the recent day I wrote this piece was a particularly good day for the end of the world (a near miss actually), I don’t know. I do relish the idea that people simply doing their jobs or being decent people prevents end of the world type experiences for everyone or a few people under localized circumstances. With this in mind, remember to say Please and Thank You.
Love & Light