dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Monday, December 31, 2012

olive oil tasting

I forgot to tell you that at the farmers market the other day, I was looking at someone's olive oil and he offered me a taste.  "Of the olive oil?" I asked.  He gave me tastes in little plastic cups.  I sipped the smallest sips.  I liked the fruitier one.  I felt a little guilty because I had no intention of buying his olive oil.  But I know they like their booths to look busy, so we were doing him a service just by standing there.


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