Pistachios
Pistachios, once colored red,
With dye that stained your fingers,
Are nuts I really like, although
One memory still lingers.
In Istanbul, at twenty-one,
I bought some from a vendor
And got so sick, that might have been
My thumb-crack nut snack ender.
Though dyeless, they were fresh and huge
And tasted just fantastic
But somehow they produced in me
Unpleasant spasms (gastric).
That episode’s another tale
Yet now, some decades later,
I crack those shells and don’t expect
A stomach detonator.
Still, memory kicks in sometimes
When ‘stachio shells I’m splitting;
I’m glad that that experience
Did not result in quitting.
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