THE TOMATO FACTOR

At first the odor
wafted by a northerly wind
came from coffee at Kobos --
some said a metallic smell
some burnt toast.
There were many loud complaints.

Then the air was heavy with
thousands of Portland roses.
In our gardens mint
and tomatoes, parsley and burnet
grew lush in the air
of chromium, manganese and lead.

The local foundry gave pencils
to the school children
to uneasy neighbors, dinners.
Even the attar of roses from the tank farms
got old. Headaches
and stuffy noses followed.

We opened our windows
to cool and sweet night air
to new mysterious ailments
while the mayor and CEOs

offered a toast:
To delicious backyard tomatoes.