The Extravagance of Sulfur

I hear them talking at the table
In a coffeeshop
In boston.

What about sulfur?
No, too extravagant.

My simple mind,
Made for the poetic over the scientific,
Wonders why one would consider sulfur to be
Lavish.

I know that
my meager salary
Calls my expeditions to used book stores
Excessive.

I know that
our society
Considers certain aspects of government spending
Wasteful.

But sulfur?
The spicy tip on a match
The scent of deviled eggs
And hell’s own fumes

The extravagance of such a thing eludes me
And I shall leave such things up
To those who know better than I.