Because They Were There

Don’t ask me why
I had to buy,
pie pumpkins at the store —
not 1, not 5, but even more,
because, I don’t know.
And when I asked
what use they were beside some pies,
the cashier’s steady steely eyes
had opened wide,
head cocked to the side,
You mean, she gasped,
There’s something else to make but pie?
My oh my, why would anyone
want to make anything other than a pie,
and thus defy, tradition?
Then, delighting in the pleasure
and just for her good measure,
gave me the old stink eye.

Maybe I got blinded by
the brilliance of the season,
that being the reason,
or by the mounds and mounds of orange rounds
stacked everywhere around the grounds,
or by the jack-o’-lanterns
sitting on the steps and taking turns
at calling out to me.
So that in one mad moment filled with passion on display,
or even a kind of lunacy in the day,
I scooped up all she had.
And maybe all I really wanted was to try,
something new before I die,
and break the boring bonds
of everyday routine,
and like Everest,
they were there.

So now,
I find myself on one of cooking’s tallest ledges,
diving deep in spicy pumpkin wedges.
But don’t send me to the hospital
just for making pumpkin peanut brittle,
or think that I’m a nutter
because of pumpkin butter,
or say I should be kicked out of the group
for making tasty pumpkin soup,
or take away my standing in good stead
because of one that’s stuffed
with roasted garlic, cheese and bread.
For after all,
isn’t crazy just the other side
of imagination’s quiet ride?
And as for the one I like the best?
Who knew,
it would be the Caribbean pumpkin stew.

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