From May to December

It was love at first sight.
I was at the Debec Mart buying mouthwash
when I noticed you from across the room.
Slender and fresh, dressed in the deepest of
purples and wearing a green beret,
you were the loveliest Melongena Ovata on the shelf.

At first you were shy, not wanting to speak with me.
I was a stranger after all!
But when I began to talk of a life of ratatouille
and parmigiana di melanzane you saw
that I wasn’t a run of the mill hack chef.
You saw a future with me – there was possibility – and
I couldn’t have been happier!

You came home with me that night.
You trusted me too much.
You were so innocent.
Can you forgive me?

I introduced you to the olive oil and
to the various spices and salts in the pantry.
You were especially fond of the large
cast iron skillet – that cad!
I knew he would take you away from me
if I wasn’t careful.
I made a mental note to not have him out
when you were around.

The next day we enjoyed pasta together for dinner;
You were more comfortable in your skin and
I knew that you would soon be ready for more
complicated dishes.

When we parted ways, you lied down in the
crisper and I retreated to the bedroom.

Then life got busy and we saw less and
less of each other until one day I couldn’t
remember the last time that we had talked.
I figured that you had left me sometime during the summer.
I missed you but knew that it was for the best.

I found you today.
I was looking for a shallot but found you instead – oh the agony – oh the despair!
You were shriveled and rancid; your purple cloak now a dull squishy brown,
…….a mere shadow of your former self!
What had I done?

Cast Iron and I buried you with the compost.
I sang taps; he beat himself against the stove.
Clang!  Clang!
He had always loved you more than I – I understand that now.

There would be no ratatouille or
parmigiana di melanzane for us.
We just weren’t meant to be.

Now when I go to the Debec Mart, your friends and family glare at me.
I have no words for them.
I am too ashamed.

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