friday feast: riffing on brown

*This post is dedicated to Frances Park and Ginger Park, passionate purveyors of the ultimate edible browns.


My name is Jama and I am a serial brownogamist.

I just can’t help myself. Something about those little brown shorts and matching socks. The rum hum of that engine, the pounding of running shoes on the front walk, the telltale whump as a parcel is tossed onto the porch.

Thing is, he has no idea what I look like. I just hope it’s as good for him as it always is for me.

by Alice N. Persons

you bring me all the things I order
are never in a bad mood
always have a jaunty wave as you drive away
look good in your brown shorts
we have an ideal uncomplicated relationship
you’re like a cute boyfriend with great legs
who always brings the perfect present
(why, it’s just what I’ve always wanted!)
and then is considerate enough to go away
oh, UPS Man, let’s hop in your clean brown truck and elope !
ditch your job, I’ll ditch mine
let’s hit the road for Brownsville
and tempt each other
with all the luscious brown foods —
roast beef, dark chocolate,
brownies, Guinness, homemade pumpernickel, molasses cookies
I’ll make you my mama’s bourbon pecan pie
we’ll give all the packages to kind looking strangers
live in a cozy wood cabin
with a brown dog or two
and a black and brown tabby
I’m serious, UPS Man. Let’s do it.
Where do I sign?

~ from Don’t Be a Stranger (Sheltering Pines Press, 2007)


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