Pass the Salt

I think that a person can find inspiration in near-anything. Let me show you.

a pepper shaker from Sorella’s in Jamaica Plain

An on-the-spot ode to a literal salt-and-pepper shaker
by Alexa L.

I think you were confused
when you poured yourself
into my glass kaleidoscope bottle,
labeled with a P
cut from tiny holes, big enough for
but not for
both of us,

dressed in white,
almost clear 
so that you fade,
like shells
into thick sand

and me—
now stolen from—
all dressed up in browns
and blacks the color
of tree bark.

All dressed up,
with no place to go,
but to squat,
peppered with anger,
in a leftover bottle.

Despite the fact that the restaurant mistakenly used the pepper shaker for the salt (or maybe they did it on purpose? sneaky), they did have quite a delicious selection of breakfasts. Please envy below.

French Bread French Toast with Apricot, Kiwi and Strawberries

  No salt shakers were injured in the writing of this post.

5 thoughts on “Pass the Salt

  1. Alexa L. says:

    Sarah, yes! I'm so happy with what you've done with it!

  2. Remy says:

    The poem was awesome.

    and ohhhhh man that french toast. -drools-

  3. C says:

    Oooh, that breakfast does look yummy!

    I love your poem. Very original. Especially the last two lines.

    Also love your disclaimer at the end, made me giggle.


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