I ate a pistachio this morning
after I finished my morning coffee. Something salty
to counter my toast and jelly.
The army helmet shell popped right off,
leaving just a few fragments and a little dust
on the counter where I was cracking it.
Inside was the green nut.
Why are pistachios green? I wondered,
and pulled out my phone to google it.
Chlorofil, is the answer.
The same stuff that makes leaves and stems
and blades of grass green.
Well, now I know.
It made me think of my stint in time
before google and before iPhones and before
high speed internet.
If I had been eating this pistachio 20 year ago,
I would just have to sit and wonder what really makes
these little green nuts green.
My friends and I would guess
how many miles there were between the earth and the sun,
then never really know who’s guess was the closest.
We would hold that thought
when Good Charolette came on the radio -
they might not be on again for a while.
If you told me 20 years ago that one day
I would have all of the right answers in my pocket, I would tell you
Impossible. That would make me a god.
Today, I’m not God,
but I do know what makes pistachios green.
And I guess that’s a win.
Endless answers didn’t make me a deity
or bring comfort or cosmic reign. I couldn’t tell you all of
the facts I’ve accumulated, they really mean nothing.
Maybe in 20 years
I will have all of the right questions in my pocket.
Impossible. That would make me a god.
