Making salsa

Today I’m making sauce again.
The flavour left from yesterday is so bitter
I can still taste it,
Although, I’ve brushed my teeth three times.
What was I thinking?
When I added too much vitriole,
And not enough laughter.
The bus driver in his white shirt
With children looked after by the neighbour
Because their mother had died
Deserved at least a smile.
How was I to know?
How was I not?
He ate my sauce
As I shrugged off his furrowed brow.
It was a family recipe:-
Betrayal and anger with a hint of sarcasm.
Today’s sauce, will have more compassion,
More fun,
More me.

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