Oeuf: The Perfect Wrap
Janet Kuypers
1/23/24
Driving past state lines, passporting country borders,
I met you in Ontario. You drove me hours away,
closer to Montreal, but out in the middle of nowhere
to a cabin your family owned yet sparsely used.
But before, we saw Niagara Falls; it’s the U.S.’ oldest
state park (though I enjoyed the Canadian side) with
its highest flow rate of any North American waterfall
and its 160-foot vertical drop that attracts so many...
I don’t even know what water surrounded your cabin,
if it was a pond, a lake, or a river I cannot even recall,
but outside this wooded cabin, we ventured to the
water, me with my thirty-five mm camera in hand.
While walking on the water, I slipped on a wet rock,
and down I went, like broken branches, cascading
down. My only instinct was: save the camera —
so, up shot my arm as the rest of me twisted below.
The injury wasn’t that bad, but I was seeking relief
when I felt I had a sprained ankle. Every time moving
I’d bemoan and moan ‘oeuf’... until you said, “You
know, ‘oeuf’ is French for egg.” I tried to whine “egg”
the next time I was in pain, but it didn’t have the same
kick. Driving back, I stopped at McDonald’s in London;
after I ordered my meatless egg McMuffin with cheese,
the Oeuf McMuffin wrapper was the perfect wrap to receive.
|
