Huh, Miss

She slipped from among us in search of good hummus, like a whispery breeze at the scent of chickpeas; escapes for tahini rivalled old Houdini. Her nose for good cumin was simply inhuman, her longings, appeasing on lemony squeezings. She never found fault with a good pink rock salt, and oft was caught splurging on fine extra virgin. But she went on a bender, took a shine to a blender, sliced her tongue on that trough, and her hum is still off…