stinging eyes and clotting deep
in the back of a coughing throat.
Spread in thick lines across the asphalt
tying the city together in tangled knots.
bitter and spicy sharp, finding
any creases in your lips and jerking them
to the front of your mind.
wrapped in gritty granules
leaving streaks and stains
that fade and fade and fade
and never wash out.
Written the night I met Carson, and the day I got 30 days clean. Somehow the image of "mustard hugs" came up, and she liked it, so I wrote a poem about it.