Oh, almost overheated
in humid sunshine, Isit down to pull up wicked
grass out of an emerald bed
of mint. I feel like a
Gulliver washed up on a
perfumed isle. What a plant
is mint! As tough as port rope.
As cool as 1950s jazz.
I regret not cooking with it
more. Turkey, Arabia, and Iran
treat it with proper respect.
Shirt soaked in salted sweat,
I want to lie down to nap
on this bed of mint, sedated
by the extravagant odor. Such
plain desires keep me sane.
hans ostrom 2023
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