The Babaganoush was her favorite thing:
a thing about which she could talk
for hours. We would end up just dancing
sometimes, the week she worked at the Fringe,
to avoid that annoying guy who would hawk
The babaganoush. Was her favorite thing
The company? (well, I’ve been told I’m hung
up on her.) The truth is, her I would stalk
For hours. We would end up just dancing.
Just dancing, and touching, and looking
in each others’ eyes. But then: She would squawk
“The babaganoush! …was her favorite thing.
But her mouth could not a sour word bring.
I could taste her African lips (hemlock)
For hours. We would end up just dancing
and no more than that, ever. I would cringe
forever, my heart like a winter sidewalk:
The babaganoush was her favorite thing.
But four hours! Would we end up just dancing?
A serious thank you to Trevor for bringing his friend and fellow teacher Jesse along for a shift. 'Cause seriously, a villanelle? In that heat, I was lucky if I could find a rhyme for "bush". I know that "babaganoush" was one of his custom words, and that was ballsy enough for me.