Bad Poetry About Condiments

One day this spring, I discovered the bottle of French’s Classic Yellow Mustard in our refrigerator had gone past its “Best By” date—long past it. To the point where I questioned my relationship with mustard, and therefore my entire identity, you know, as one does in situations like that. I stood in our kitchen and tapped a short poem into my phone, and in the following weeks, thought, “I wonder if I could write poems about other condiments?” and also, “Are pickles a condiment?” The answer to both questions was, of course, “Yes—I mean, kind of.”

hand-drawn title box: Bad Poetry About Condiments #1: Mustard drawing of mustard bottle and first page of poem about mustard second page of bad poem about mustard third page of bad poem about mustard

 

hand-drawn title: Bad Poetry About Condiments #2: Ketchup drawing of ketchup bottle and first page of bad poem about ketchup second page of bad poem about ketchup third page of bad poem about ketchup

 

hand-drawn title: Bad Poetry About Condiments #3: Pickles drawing of jar of pickles and first page of bad poem about pickles second page of bad poem about pickles third page of bad poem about pickles

 

hand-drawn title: Bad Poetry About Condiments #4: Mayonnaise drawing of jar of mayonnaise and first page of bad poem about mayonnaise second page of bad poem about mayonnaise third page of bad poem about mayonnaise

 

hand-drawn title box: Bad Poetry About Condiments #5: Salad Dressing drawing of bottle of salad dressing and first page of bad poem about salad dressing second page of bad poem about salad dressing third page of bad poem about salad dressing

 

hand-drawn title box: Bad Poetry About Condiments #6: Hot Sauce drawing of hot sauce bottle and first page of bad poem about hot sauce second page of bad poem about hot sauce third page of bad poem about hot sauce

 

—Brendan