scarcity
pairing: photography by man of aran
Some years back, for some unknown reason (I couldn't be bothered to investigate), there seemed to be a chronic shortage of lemon concentrate at the supermarket. During that period, I had no expectation of finding a bottle, but I would always push my cart past to see if something had changed. carpe lemon lemon juice concentrate is a bird these days (not actual lemons mind you just the concentrate) flying daily from shelves (like toilet paper and flour) in this out of stock out of luck time of want— not need mind you just want so with four on the shelf it was— here today no time like it’s time to take like the winner takes while ye may but I took three as if to allow the notion that I’m not the only stocked-up lucked-out loser left in this time this time of want
Prescient.
Interesting selection of object and theme, and well-flung poetic dart. Though I don't know if a lemon is bitter or sour, but confessing and hoarding lemon concentrate is bitter and sour, pebble-grained lemon peel, tough as pigskin. How did evolution settle on such sour-bitterness to in guarantee proliferation, or whatever ate lemons in the wild? I purse my lips at the thought of it, just as you pursed your poem's oddness and frame.