Good Potato Salad

Summer comes in with the humid hot winds
Bakes these concrete walks
shimmers in waves over the pitched roof
Boils the skin till red hot

In the relative coolness of the night
After the sun has left the sky
And breeze blows over sweat skin
I put a whole bag of potatoes
In a large pot of water
And watch as the gas stove
waves heat over my already hot skin
While the water boils
While potatoes cook

In a smaller pan I place
six white eggs, smooth.
I run water over all,
watch as they drowned
Than I place them, drowning
next to the potato pan,
doubling the heat of the gas
Which starts to act
like the sun had, heating the room
The sweat on my skin is growing.

While I wait, feeling more the heat
I wash a bright red pepper
and three sticks of celery
Than under the sharp gaze
of my kitchen knife,
they split and I chop
the bright red and watery green
in a crisp fresh way,
which when done I dump unceremoniously
Into a large white rubber bowl.

I run cold water over the done
Potatoes and eggs, forcing them cool
when they were so recently hot.
Than with mayonnaise as a glue,
I stir it all rather haphazardly
It is is a random selection
of random things, a bit of red
a little pale green,
white potato and egg in white bowl
a little splash of yellow orange
the dark green of basil
the black specks of pepper
the invisible salt, I can only taste.

Good Potato Salad