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.