No. Peas will not replace this strange desire to add capers to my already quite exotic Indian stew God, do I have to go over this with myself again? And Live Get that which I happen to want? There even ain’t no shame in it, for shame! Jeez, just go to the grocery store where they have a whole shelf of them — 2 kinds And don’t wait for tommorrow’s regular beautiful shopping; the desire is for them now And shit if this ain’t the first day of spring and bare feet and the children out playing and Terra out happy despite a benign cancer near her stomach bulging and red in her eye and joy to hear the birds chirp along to Flaming Lips’ Fight Test as Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots As I still feel bad for not working and wonder when I will give it up like it’s inevitable Marching past the children echoing Yoshimi’s battle cry, their young souls shaming my reluctance to fully embrace my capers for all I know Past the teenagers hanging out fresh in courage, laughing smiles at one another as they embrace awkward, vulnerable, vibrant youth I taste one salty; almost grimmacingly bitter How many capers? How many capers? 1, 2, 3 Fuck it. Stop counting. Keep going. My intuition will tell me And if I don’t just cover it with ’em Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf. Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf? Add black pepper and a crush of bay leaf. OK. You will need a smidge more rice. Really. OK. I load up my plate up hear my roommate in his bedroom loitering, lounging, laughing with his fiancĂ©e as I go out to witness the dusk of a beautiful day and the slightest dusting of spring tears have anointed my table I wipe the seat and as I eat any evidence of wet is vapors And, no, those capers are not bitter tasting they fit perfect, well: smashing and, hmm, maybe not enough rice ah, no, just just enough I needn’t have thought