Polyester pimento

Red is like olives  

Striking enough on its own 

There was a time  

When there was no place for red 

Nor olives  

In my perfect little world 

Red was an attention seeker 

Olives were tangy and also attention seeking 

Dark red was a sultry, murder mystery kind of whiny whore  

Bright red was a cheap, polyester op shop crop top kind of hoe 

Medium red was the sweet-spot femme-fatale lipstick kind of thot  

Each one destined to be lonesome, far too much amongst other, more civilised colours 

Olives set my mouth on fire  

Green was a phoney jalapeño  

Black olives were phoney liquorice trying to jump into my subway sandwich  

I’d always stop them in time  

The pit was always a b-horror jumpscare  

That made me grit my teeth   

That was then  

I am older, wiser  

Now I’ll greet the innocent punnet of strawberry red  

Or sophisticated Kalamata olive (pitted, please) 

And enjoy it on an itchy jam jar gingham picnic blanket  

You‘ve brought a jar of green olives stuffed with polyester red pimento 

We’ll enjoy them together until you’re a civilised olive and I am a civilised shade of red