PIES

By

Mary Phillips-Sandy

Sour Cherry
My grandfather was a piano tuner. Sometimes, as a joke, he would twist my nose or my left ear and hum a note. "You're flat!" he'd say. His wrists were thin and his hands were wide, with broad fingers that could reach from middle C to the D sharp in the next octave. I have not seen my grandfather in fourteen years. Every Christmas I renew his subscription to National Geographic.

Chocolate Cream
Let's open that bottle of wine from your parents. Why not? Come on. The kids are asleep.

Buttermilk
Folks, this here is a classic example of the local craft aesthetic. If you look real close, you'll see these little squiggly lines along the edges. That's traditional. It's kind of like hieroglyphics, you know? Those Egyptian things. They use the patterns and shapes to tell stories. Anybody have any questions? Yes? Oh, you know, like, daily life. Just building a barn or whatever.

Raspberry Peach
Last week when I stood on that mountain and promised to love you forever I heard the words coming from my mouth, but I didn't recognize my voice. I couldn't find my body. I wondered if I had jumped off the mountain. I could have jumped off the mountain. I could have taken you with me. We could have jumped off the mountain and flown up, up, up over the lake.

Brandied Date and Walnut
None of this would have happened if your mother were still alive.

Lemon Meringue
Okay. Three hundred miles to Council Bluffs. Then what? Lemme see the map. I guess we'll pick up Route 80 in Nebraska. Here. Then Lincoln, Kearney, North Platte, Ogallala, Kimball. Looks like we go through Cheyenne. And there's Laramie. We can get there by nightfall if we leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow. You ready to go?