I have been creating an eclectic variety of songs as of late, and with this one I even surprised myself. It now sounds like a bookend to Peace on the Path, another walking song, in my ears. I’ll probably try to slip this on my wife’s walking playlist, too, even in this pretty rough form!
The moral of the story is you can write a song about anything. I’m not sure the melody is particularly original, but sometimes that feels like it happens and sometimes it actually happens, I don’t think I can tell.
I’m falling behind in the BTR, I know, and I am anxious to catch up! There is always some extra special music to be had.
Prickly Pears by Steve Bancroft
I bought a big bag of prickly pears
In the grocery store for a $1.99
I could not recall ever eating one before
But right then they were looking mighty fine
It was a bargain by the pound
And perhaps I would miss out
On an exotic new taste sensation
And now I’d soon find out what it’s all about
Why it’s the rage of the nation
And so it was I was home all alone
Craving some afternoon snack
And there on the counter in the kitchen
Was that untouched paper sack
So I picked one up that was redder
As if I knew that was a sign it was ripe
And without another dally or a diddle
Proceeded to cut it down the middle
The skin is akin to a cactus or lizard green
But the inside was a lovely shade of dark pink
And the center had seeds like a cantaloupe
And not to be eaten was what I did think
Which left a thin layer of meat on the outside
So I sliced the skin off a small piece
That I felt pretty comfortable trying
And popped it seeds and all in my mouth to eat
It tasted OK, kind of bland, and the seeds
Were hard and slippery like a grape
So I sucked up the fruit and the seeds I spit out
Which was kind of a hassle, I must say
Now watermelons are no problem
But this was like pomegranates or wild grapes
So I decided to check on the internet
If there were more recommended ways
I watched a man prepare one on Youtube
He cut off the ends and a strip down one side
Then effortlessly peeled off the frog like skin
And cut himself a quarter inch slice
And the consensus was swallow the seeds, they are good for you
Contrary to what I had thought
But I had trouble imagining eating that way
All the prickly pears I had bought
And to this day they still sit on the counter
And I wonder how long they will last
Especially left at room temperature
Because I’ll probably not eat them very fast
Let the prickly pear be a metaphor
For things on shelves within life’s store
Odd and forgotten and easily ignored
That sneak up on you so quietly like bargains when you’re bored