Fire and Time

Sweet potatoes in the grill basket
tonight
chopped into chips.

I always buy too many potatoes -
sweet or otherwise -
a desire for plenty
that outweighs all other thoughts.

As the pile on the cutting board
grows
I know my character flaw
has once again manifested itself.
Sweet potatoes sliced and stacked
are like stock market crashes -
you know they will come
you just don't know when.
You can only hope
to be dining at someone else's house
that night.

It's never as bad as it looks -
fire and time reduce the calamity by half.
The sheer volume of roots
dissipates -
gives up the ghost of water wholly.

So of course now I must add
the plantain I had hidden
at the bottom of the grocery bag.
I joyfully slice that manly fruit
on the same cutting board
and on to the flame it goes -
fruit of the earth and the sky.

I think about fire and time
as I raise creamsicle colored
forkfulls to my mouth -

fire and time burn away
all that is unnecessary -

Fire and Time leave only
the darkened, sweet memory.