olive trees in the medicinal garden
at the university (bitter medicine).
astonishing, I thought, making a face
like a bewildered cat, that a fruit
can be bitter, sour, and sweet all at once.
the smell of olives on a december street
in claremont, so strong and so constant
that my nose tried to lift me off the ground.
among the cacti, among the deciduous trees
that would never lose their leaves, I sniffed.
lizard measures cooking time in olives:
"the pasta should take about twelve olives."
and as she talks she slowly decimates a jar.
gestures with her briny fingers.
eight more olives until it's done.