Cracking Open Snow Peas on the Promenade by the Drava
“Peas are not amused. They have spent all their lives keeping their knees together.”
– "Peas," by Lorna CrozierDear Lorna, I think I have been raised a pea. I think peas are meant to be punctured, manhandled– see, they don’t thrive so well in Osijek air. You’re here to adventure, explore, he says. The promenada sprawls naked, waiting to be touched, to see boys kissing – all these bare forearms. You won’t sleep tonight, he whispers; the words cling to my collarbone – and I say yes, because we sleep all too much, we readily coma inside the tight, green lips of peas. I did not come to the promenade to sleep. So I challenge the life of peas, burst them open underneath sweaty sheets licked by marijuana and Ožujsko.* Cast away the shells into the Drava river like an old skin that I convince him, them, myself – I had never worn before.
* A traditional Croatian beer.