It was just curry at the end of the day.

Big oozing dollops of it served up on chips,

Eyes streaming from vinegar’s sting.

That stubborn stench that sticks to your hands

Makes you wonder how you could ever love it.

But you do, you always will.

It was curry that brought me back.

To the end of a long shopping trip in the rain,

To the drives we took in the country,

Mr. Diamond crooning in the background.

Funny that it’s curry.

You didn’t even make it that often.

I can’t make it now. I can’t stomach it.

I’m stained for good.

You’re gone and my eyes are streaming

No vinegar necessary.



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