Trail Mix, Fava Beans, and Lady Slippers
All we need is some Chianti
and I’m checking the mileage
like there’s a truck stop up ahead
a place to fill up on fuel and wine.
Only we’re walking here.
We’re walking, and we’re talking
like it’s 1999, Y2K didn’t happen,
and guess what else didn’t:
You got it:
no wine,
no trucks,
no lines,
but I did get a few lady slippers and fava beans
from the Azores. Go ahead—look it up. I’ll wait.
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