Basil, Sweet

a shriveled up basil plant
a shriveled up basil plant
Basil Sweet, a victim of my irresponsible farming techniques.

It was the coldest day in Austin in 4 or 5 years. I was driving Uber to pay the rent, and  3:05 AM found me, with a nice semi drunk woman in the back seat, on top of an icy bridge waaaay out near Round Rock, out of gas. It was 22 degrees F with 42 mph winds. I don’t know the math, but the wind chill was, well a bit much for a Texas Boy. The nearest gas station was about 100 ft. from me, but it was under this flyover bridge I was on, and to get there it would be about a 2 mile walk to the nearest off ramp and back. I was in wearing a Hawaiian shirt and had just a thin little jacket,  and no mukuluks. So, I opted to wait for a tow truck to arrive.

Her husband finally came to get her after 20 min. or so. I still feel two little burn holes in the back of my neck from the beams of pure hate emanating from this woman’s eyes in the back seat. And, it was well deserved, I might add –even though I refunded her entire $68.00 fare. That hurt.

I sat on that ramp for 1 hour and 32 minutes AFTER her husband came and took her home, until my angel in a wrecker arrived with some gas.

Then, when I finally got home at about 5:15 AM, I noticed my only plant, Basil, was looking a little peaked. I brought him in the house, but, well, next morning it was obvious he was a goner. So I wrote this tribute to him. He was a friend of mine, who always made my salads taste a little better, and was awesome with mozzarella and the virgin. Olive oil, I mean.

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