Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Dill Pickles

4500 years ago
in Mesopotamia
the lowly cucumber
was pickled for flavor.

And life has never been the same.

Thousands of pickles
from cornichons to gherkins
are served today
in Germany and Jacksonville

I despise sweet pickles
because they taste like children’s candy.
and I’m a man.

Half-sour pickles are for fools
who lack commitment
and enjoy half-baked bread.

I don’t care about the pickle’s crispness.
or the snap of the crunch.
I just want my pickle so sour
that it turns my hair green.

I want my pickle soaked in the brine for years.
I want every moment of dill, mustard, garlic, and pepper
flooding my tongue until my eyes are tearing from the pleasure and pain.

9 Comments

  1. I never knew pickles had such thin limbs. I want that picture for my kitchen.

  2. It must be a pickly kind of March day because it’s all pickles and garlicky crunch over at 6512 feet.

  3. This may be my favorite poem of all time. Eat it, Emily Dickinson.

  4. This is so beautiful. My thoughts exactly.

  5. Smiling. Germany and Jacksonville.

  6. Lovely. Understated. I really like what you’ve done with the assonance and imagery here.

    Billy Collins is shaking in his boots.

  7. I adore pickles. Dill only.

  8. I couldn’t agree more.

  9. i found this article very amusing 😛

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