Cool wine.

2)

To prove my point that Nothing you know works without salt, listen to this one short night from my Thousands Tales of Salt and Blinding Brightness.

          Serious,
          Sicilian, 
          in rocks,
          in boxes

~ That night, one of thousands of tales of thousands of nights it was pleasant, some would say balmy, a word I find alien to here so let's say pleasant the bible demands death to an owner of an ox that gores and kills a free israelite Seraelle. a moist night, the kind that makes you want to lick minerals from sparkling lamposts under buzz just to get that, ooh. Pink. Then love a good man, for, and with, and after supper, all night says death to Bankers who charge Interest. That night, how breathtakingly beautiful it was, primeval or mediaeval Darkness, Darkness, and I decided to cook brown lentils to chase away my fears and watch earth rise and

3)

breathe in a pot, and this giddy idea just sent me in a frenzy I spun I twinkled, thoughts of chewing earth and salts, and crunching melting minerals sparkling in my head. I'd cook brown lentils for whomever cared to come. Jesus. I'd cook them with salt, lots, and almost nothing else but water, taste of earth, and sea, or tears from some man's sacred skin, my mouth. and die if you disobey a priest or judge. Salt does not melt but it glistens in a bowl of glass filled with oil from ancient Apulian trees. In my mouth. Salt seeps in wooden spoon soul, overflows in you, in, simple.

I cooked two pounds with salt in a dimly lit kitchen. I cooked and stirred, stone a woman till she's dead cooked alone,if raped in city walls, cooked alone and humming till dead adding salt since we didn'tmore salt hearsaltany screaming.

While waiting for water to boil the night before I went to the store to buy salt from the bin, which seemed a smart, While waiting for water to boil the night before I went to the store to buy salt from the bin, which seemed a smart, good and economical thing to do, and entirely essentially wholesome. In fact, I would not have been surprised to see Jesus turn the corner and smile through my eyes. Nevertheless, I walked as normally as I could manage.

4)

to get the salt, then to the register, but I forgot the magic number so I had to go back to the bin, still, essentially, half expecting Jesus.

The answer was right there before my dark eyes, must I unravel every quarter inch while you yourself unravel,

something, anything?

So I trudged home through sludge from my trip for the salt, distracting myself calls for death with thoughts of Dr. Seuss ". by stoning for lack of respect for your parents and Dalmations, and walked in the steamy kitchen just as the water boiled for a bride found not to be avirgin ~Hello~.

To cook your own rappini, first make sure you have salt, then wash 2 bunches, chop off woody stems or peel them and put everything in a pot of boiling salted water. Cook them till they're barely barely tender tender and fish them from the water in the Bible, after Jesus it says no longer is there slave or free, which you will use to cook perciatelli

5)

or whatever pasta you prefer, even if some shapes don't work well with rappini everything is entirely a matter of choice, or moreso, Jesus licks aches from my soul as I sleep, prenataldisposition, I open, drink healed from where was wounds. Jesus never said not to eat salt. Heat a pan with olive oil, almoat burn the garlic till it makes you nostrils twitch. Do not forget the salt. Meanwhile, cook la pasta nell'acqua, save some l'acqua and drain la pasta, and mix it all together and serve it with a little more salt or salty grated cheese, and says no longer is there male or female, and when my people sat, and ate, no one, said, one word. And they Never, Ever, do that. So I, um, almost choked. Then I tasted.

--John Mercuri Dooley