23 Comments
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Kate's avatar

Such a tender, light hearted spin on love. Thank you Sherman Alexie for making lovely this day's end.

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Colette K's avatar

Oh I love this👏👏👏❤️❤️❤️❗❗‼️‼️

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Thank you!

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athnaz's avatar

Such sweetness! “…not the words that matter, it’s in the listening”. Thank you! Your poem made me think and smile and laugh. Small moments can be those big universals. I like the sound value of the word Radish. So fun to say. Who knew? I laughed too because my husband doesn’t want a salad spinner in our home and that’s okay because he makes great salads without one.

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Diane Leigh Koletzke's avatar

I shunned salad spinners for years, and had an endless argument with a co-worker who used one... I said he was a yuppie with his spinner. But when I started a garden, I became convinced of the magic of the spinner to gently handle the delicate leafs I picked. I came over to the dark side, and have never left.

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Darth Spinner?

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athnaz's avatar

Yeah. I’ve tried to convince him but he has his ways and he does not want to sacrifice the space for it while we’re in an apartment. Which I get. Maybe when we live in a place with more space he will reconsider…

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Anti-salad spinner! Ha! And “radish” is a great word. As I read your post, the world “radiant” popped into my head. The Radiant Radish sounds like Ronald Dahl!

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Julia's avatar

Ok, we use our salad spinner almost daily, and listened to this poem after our dinner where we employed this essential tool yet again for another meal--who would have thought it would become poetry after all these years...Sherman, you're the best!

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Wow! Thank you so much! And hello to your salad spinner!

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Steve Lovelace's avatar

"Its not the words that matter, its in the listening", the truth with a side salad. Thanks

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Side salad! Thank you!

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Wendy's avatar

This is beautiful.

(Thank you for sharing it.)

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Thank you!

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Wayne Kigerl's avatar

Once, I took a poetry class from Annie Dilliard.

A man barged in wearing a rubber Nixon mask.

Held her arm.

And with the other.

A banana to her head.

Bright and yellow.

Menacing.

Banana.

At the podium.

While he rambled insane words.

Can somebody take over this class, she asked.

We could have been heroes.

But no one did.

We watched for a full minute.

At least.

Until he ran out the hall.

Silence.

Then she continued.

With a cigarette.

As if nothing happened.

Time stand still.

Banana.

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Amazing!

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Wayne Kigerl's avatar

But true.

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

More amazing because it’s true.

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Wayne Kigerl's avatar

Yet your poem is delicious.

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Diane Leigh Koletzke's avatar

I too am crying, and at the same time smiling SO HUGE. This is so fun and joyous, AND profound! Thank you - what a gift!

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Thank you, Diane.

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Julie Sharif's avatar

Oh my goodness, and here I sit, crying at the breakfast table. Will definitely read this to my husband of 41 years tonight. Tender, powerful, true!

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Sherman Alexie's avatar

Thank you, Julie!

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