For Kelly, whose tomatoes never made it to Rachael
Forgive me
I have taken the tomatoes
I was supposed to pass on to your friend
I have dropped the cherry bombs
Into an innocent cast iron pit
Thick with garlic, green pepper and buttery yellow white onion
Tonight you might catch me
Pouring the purloined fruit
In its larcenous stew over pasta
To serve my starving guests
Forgive me
If they admire the rich red pour
Forgive me
If we raise a glass
To friendship and to food
Forgive me if I never say
I have stolen this joy from a friend
Forgive me
They were so ripe and ruby red
And the guests, though unexpected
Were worthy of your gift
